Wind Flower
by xrogue23
Summary: University AU. Irene meets this musician in an unexpected and awkward manner. Things develop from there.
1. The Beginning of Our Duet

Writer's block for Hired Gun. May not update in awhile. (Sorry, Kuroui!) Brain jumped off the T/I ship and sailed to this sparsely occupied vessel.

Inspired by Ryu-chan's "Chasing The Lightning". Look it up in Google. It's a series of Claymore fanfics, and very well-written.

Edit: Changed Teresa's hair colour to black... since this is an AU and all...

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><p><em>Are you able to hear my voice?<em>

_1 o'clock at night, on Heart Station_

_A secret hertz that still connects us_

_Are you receiving the frequencies of my heart?_

_Heart station of sinners_

_A secret only God knows_

_- Heart Station, Utada Hikaru_

**Chapter 1: The Beginning of Our Duet**

Stepping out of the 4th floor's locker room, she reveled in the feeling of the cool night breeze on her skin. It felt so refreshing, especially after a strenuous 4-hour training in the university's dojang* in preparation for the upcoming inter-school championships. Irene was part of Claymore University's Taekwondo Club, its president in fact, and was the captain of the school team. Last year, as a Year 1, she had earned reputation for her swifter-than-the-eye kicks in the arena, knocking opponents out cold before they knew what hit them. Now, as a Year 2, she was known as "The Lightning" both in the Taekwondo circle and in her school, treated as a prized possession of the Claymore Taekwondo Club. An offer to admit her into the National Sparring Team came at the beginning of the year, which she readily accepted. So for now, the athlete had to maintain herself in top form with the school. Said athlete placed her bag down beside the parapet and stretched her arms above her head, pulling the muscles in her limbs and back to relax them. Her hair was still damp from a quick shower, moistening the towel she put around her shoulders with water. A few stray droplets managed to bypass that piece of fabric to land onto her fitting V-neck tee. Irene used the towel to run through her hair again as she reached down to extract her phone from her bag. It was an iPhone 4S, bought for her by her mother just two months ago, as a birthday gift to replace the antique device she had been using ever since she accidentally dropped her precious white Blackberry into the condominium's swimming pool.

It was 7.14pm. She had agreed to meet Teresa at 8.30 for a late dinner, so she had time to spare. _So what should I do now? _Irene rested her elbows on the parapet, her chin on one hand. There was no pressing need for her to study right now, since she already had a head start on her assignment. Should she just head to the mall first and do some window shopping? But shopping was not really her thing, much less "window" shopping. Irene's gaze drifted downwards, and she saw that the lights of the convenience store in the campus were still on. _Well, I can afford to have a small bite now. _As if to show approval, Irene's stomach growled lightly. _A bite it is._ She hitched her bag onto a shoulder, then headed down the stairs. But as she was halfway down the steps toward the 2nd floor, something caught her attention: the soft, melodic notes of a piano. Irene cocked her head slightly. It came from the direction of the school's music rooms, which belonged to the Music Club. But why was someone still practicing this late? If Irene was not wrong, their competition was already over in late April. Curiosity piqued, the silver-haired student went back up the steps and walked over to the music rooms.

The music, she realized, did not come from the major music room the Club used for their full-strength practices. Instead, it came from one of the two side rooms that were used for sectional practices or just for casual playing. Irene stepped quietly to the one with its lights on. She peeked in through the tinted glass windows, to see that a student was on the room's grand piano. The piano was angled so that the musician's face was not obscured, and Irene, examining the female, found herself thankful for that fact. The student at the piano was beautiful. She had wavy blond locks that fell just past her shoulders, and framed her delicate face. Straight nose, soft lips. Her eyes were currently closed, as her fingers danced nimbly over the piano keys, still playing out the piece Irene had heard from the stairs. As Irene watched, the musician slowly built up the rhythm and transited smoothly into a phase much less calm and more upbeat before. The student's eyes finally opened, and even through the dark-tinted glass, Irene could see they were beautiful. Her attention was fully caught by the vision before her.

Irene was a lesbian, and not a closet one either, not anymore. Her first two relationships had been with males, but she never could connect with them. She felt more physically-attracted to those of the same sex, even when her second boy had a body that other girls would die for. When Irene switched team, she stayed in the closet at first, dating her first girlfriend under wraps. When that girl left her because she felt Irene was too sensitive about her own sexuality, the silver-haired girl started to change, and eventually stopped hiding her sexual orientation. It was a relief, really. What's better was that her mother did not question her, just accepted and loved her like before.

Time passed, and Irene still could not tear her eyes away. It was not only because the musician was beautiful. It was the emotions that she conveyed through her entire self, her showmanship, which captivated Irene. She looked completely immersed in what she was doing, her face looked as if she was in another world altogether. Her shoulders swayed gently with her arms, her hands, like a dance as a personal touch in accompaniment to the piece of music she was playing. Irene's mother was a professional musician, specializing in both the piano and cello. She had taken her daughter to numerous performances and concerts, as well as some of her own shows, and the younger learnt how to appreciate the art and identify talents in it. The lovely apparition before her right now showed the basic characteristics that a "talent" should have. Irene observed her more closely. This girl may very well reach the top cailbre, one day…

The blonde's hands slowed as she brought the current music piece to an elegant close. A small smile graced her lips, as her hands started up again, beginning another piece. Irene angled her ear closer to the window, trying to identify the name of the music the soft notes belonged to. As the low melody drifted into her ears, Irene felt a sense of familiarity…

'_FLY ME TO THE MOON, AND LET ME PLAY AMONG THE STARS-_'

Irene jumped uncharacteristically, her phone's ringtone disrupting her aural concentration and startling her. She quickly hid behind the wall next to the window she was peeping through, her heartbeat at rapid-fire as she shoved her hand into her bag and wrenched the phone out.

_Incoming call – Teresa_

'-_IN OTHER WORDS, HOLD MY HAND… IN OTHER WORDS, DARLING, KISS M-' _

Irene's hands fumbled a little before she was able accept the call. _Damned Bayonetta's techno rendition of this song… _She made a mental note to change the ringtone as she pressed the phone against her ear. It was then she noticed the piano had stopped. She looked through the window quickly in horror, and saw that the piano's seat was vacated. The music room's door swung open, pouring light into the dark corridor. The fair blonde she was scrutinising just moments earlier stepped out and, noticing her, fixed her with a curious, and mildly apprehensive, gaze.

'_Hello? Irene? Listen, I'm going to be a little late. I need to go to Kate's home and hand her something. Can we push the meal to 9?' _Teresa, oblivious to that fact that nothing she said was registering with Irene, sounded a dash frustrated.

The martial artist, the one who had ice water running through her veins, the one who showed no overt emotion whatsoever in the arena, the one famed for her lightning-fast knockout kicks, blanked out, with a mild heat rising from her neck, in front of the stranger's unwavering scrutiny. Her lips were parted, but no sound came out. The situation happened too fast, too _awkward_. She felt like a Peeping Tom who was caught in the act.

'_Hello? Woman, are you there? Did you hear what I said? Hello? Ire-,'_

Irene, with great internal effort, pushed past the invisible blockage in her windpipe. 'L-listen, I'll call you back. Thanks.'

'_Huh? What's goin-,' _Irene hung up and lowered her phone slowly, eyes never leaving the girl in front of her.

'Um…' The slightly shorter blonde started tentatively. 'May I help you?' She had a voice that favoured a mildly higher pitch, but it did not grate on the ears. Instead, her soft-spoken manner made it sound rather melodic. _Like the keys on the piano. _Irene mused, before giving herself a forceful mental slap. She cleared her throat, putting on her usual indifferent mask.

'Um,' Irene unintentionally mimicked the first words spoken to her by the lovely girl, and cringed inwardly. Did she sound like an idiot? 'No, actually… I was just passing, then I noticed someone playing the piano. So I came to have a look.'

'Oh.' The blonde suddenly looked shier; maybe a little embarrassed, a faint shade of pink crossed her cheeks. 'You… were listening?'

Irene ran through a thousand possible replies in her head, even as a small part of her brain told her she was helpless. Flying kicks and punches? Sure, no problem. Uncomfortable social situation? Brain packs up and leaves her sprawling in the ditch. Why?

'Yes,' The silver-haired student noticed the twitch in the blonde's lips. 'Well, you were playing very well, so I stopped to listen.' Irene noticed the faint pink becoming a shade darker.

'Thank you.' The girl smiled at her, somewhat more at ease now, which alleviated Irene's tension too. 'You're Irene-san, aren't you?'

The elven woman blinked, inclining her head slightly. 'Yes. How did you know?'

The delicate student's smile widened further. 'Irene, last year's National Taekwondo Champion, "The Lightning". Your pictures were in the news and your matches are on Youtube. And I think you look quite… unique?' She tested the word. 'It's rather difficult not to recognise you.'

Irene lifted an eyebrow, her hand unconsciously reached up to touch the pointed tips of her ears, a slight genetic defect.

The shorter girl's eyes widened. 'Oh, no! I wasn't talking about your ears. I'm so sorry! I was just, I was just… you know… your hair…' She seemed to lose steam in the middle of her sentence, confused at the bemused expression that appeared on the athlete's face.

'It's alright. I'm not bothered about my ears anymore.' Irene conceded a small smile to reassure the girl, whose hand slipped up to the back of her neck, rubbing it lightly. She bit her lip, looking unsure of what to say next.

'What's your name?' Irene ventured.

'Flora.' The blonde replied.

'I see. That's a nice name.' Irene gave another, wider smile. 'It fits you.'

Flora's blush darkened more, so that it was just obvious from where Irene was standing. Her feet shuffled lightly on the grey cement floor. _She looks so delicate… Just like a flower. Fitting indeed._

'Are you a Year 1?'

Flora nodded.

'No wonder I've not seen your face around. Though it's been five months since the year started.' The athlete gave a mini-shrug. 'Well,' she moved closer to Flora. 'I'm Irene. Nice to meet you.' She extended a hand. The younger stared at the proffered hand for awhile, before reaching out to clasp it with her own. Flora's hand felt so soft against her own, Irene realised. But the younger's grip was firm.

'Nice to meet you too, Irene-san.'

'Drop the "san". Just "Irene" is fine.'

'Alright. Thank you… Irene.' Flora glanced back into the music room. 'Were you going somewhere?'

'Oh.' Irene got reminded of the bite she wanted to take just now. But the shock of being found out by Flora seems to have driven the urge away. She drew her phone again, and read a new message from Teresa: '_9pm, you funny little girl.'_ She checked the time: 7.50. Forty more minutes to burn… 'Yes, but I still have time.' The athlete looked at the piano, then back at the junior. 'Do you mind if I stayed and listened to you play?'

The blonde looked rather surprised, but recovered from it. 'No, I don't.' She tilted her head toward the music room while stepping back in, giving an unspoken invitation to her senior, who accepted it without a second's thought.

Air-conditioning surrounded her the moment Irene stepped in, quickly making the water droplets still in her t-shirt feel cold against her back. The taller student shivered slightly as she swept her gaze around the room. Instruments were arranged neatly around the sides of the room, leaving a clear space in the middle, making the slightly small room seem, well, spacious. Irene took in a deep breath, enjoying the fact that this club room did not have the smell of perspiration that the dojang had during training sessions. In fact, the room smelled as if its wooden floor had just been mopped, a faint fragrance lingering in the air.

'Nice place you have here. Not as stuffy as our training room.' Irene informed the musician.

Flora smiled, turning to face the lithe martial artist. With clearer lighting in here than out in the corridor, Irene could properly look into the blonde's eyes. If what she saw through the window was beautiful, it was nothing compared to what she was looking at right now. Flora's eyes were a light shade of green, and they were so clear, as if looking into an actual pair of precious gemstones. The corners of Irene's lips unconsciously turned upward.

'Thanks. We cleaned it up just two days ago. Glad to know the effort was worth it.' She cocked her head. 'It's not as easy to clean your training room, is it? All the mats and all…'

'It's not.' Irene conceded. As a Year 1, Irene had had to wipe each individual mat in the dojang, along with the rest of her batch that is, with only a piece of cloth to each student. It was the coach's way of teaching his students patience and humility. Patience was one of Irene's strong points, and she certainly felt humble after removing the smell of feet from countless mats, not to mention with the suspicion she had that her back was broken after that stint.

As Flora took her place in front of the grand piano, Irene grabbed a chair and placed it at an appropriate distance from the instrument, taking care to ensure that she could capture most of Flora's profile from her position. Said musician took one last glance at her one-man audience with a slight tinge of amusement, before losing herself into the music again. She seemed not to mind that a senior she barely knows was currently gazing at her unblinkingly. _Must have performed before, _Irene realised as she watched Flora's eyes close as her fingers floated over the piano keys. As the soothing melody filled the room, Irene felt strangely peaceful. It reminded her of her mother, who was currently overseas on a show tour, who would often play the piano for her daughter when the child was sick in bed. "Music therapy", her mother called it. She believed as long as a person loved music, it would have a healing effect on her, no matter what condition she was in.

Irene smiled softly to herself as she slowly moved her gaze over Flora's face, taking in the gentle features set in that delicate countenance. Her eyes eventually landed on the junior's lips. Kissable, that's what they would call it. Those sculpted, pale cherry lips. She wondered if they would feel as tender as they looked, against her own…

The senior caught herself again, blinking lightly at the realisation of what she was thinking. She observed the pianist again. Irene rarely felt so physically attracted to others before. There was that one time with her second girlfriend, but their relationship had remained more physical than anything else. _Alas, soothe thy raging heart, fool. _Irene thought to herself. She'd only really interacted with Flora just barely fifteen minutes ago. This may just be a passing fancy, that's all… right?

Time passed, and as Flora drew to a close in yet another song, Irene checked the time again. 8.36pm. _Time to go. _She stood, catching Flora's attention, the junior mirroring her actions.

'I've got to go now. An appointment.' Irene explained, slinging her bag onto her shoulder.

'I see.' Flora went over to the door, with Irene close behind, and held the door open for her senior. 'Goodbye.' She said with a smile.

Ever felt like you had more to say but nothing was in your mind?

'Bye.' Irene took two steps before turning around again. 'Hope to see you around.'

'I hope so too.' Came the reply.

Irene's eyes lingered on the junior a little while longer, before she went on her way. A small part of her recognised the sense of reluctance with which she had done so.

_-Half an hour later-_

Irene walked into café, her eyes sweeping around until she found Teresa sitting at a table for two at the back, legs crossed and eyes staring at something outside the modest establishment. The elven female sat down at the table, depositing her pack beside her chair and drawing her friend's attention, albeit briefly.

'You're late.' The attractive female told Irene, glancing down at her watch briefly before returning to stare outside.

'You amaze me, Sherlock.' Was Irene's comeback as she turned her head to follow Teresa's line of vision. It was directed at one of the outdoor tables of the café, a couple was making out in the open night, the girl with her hand lower than it should be in public. She raised a brow at her friend, who somehow managed to see it.

'How long do you think it'll take before they start having sex in front of everyone?' Teresa tossed the question over.

'Why do you even care?'

Teresa finally met her friend's eyes fully. 'Couples engaging in PDA forfeit their privacy and anyone is free to look and ogle. I don't and never want to understand that.'

Irene merely shrugged. 'Can we get our food now? I'm hungry.'

Teresa waved a waiter over, who took a double take at the woman, and they placed their orders.

'He couldn't stop staring at your rack.' Irene teased, earning an eye-roll from Teresa.

'I shall ignore that.' She folded her arms on the table and leaned slightly forward. 'And why were you late? I thought you said your training would end early today.'

'I was… held up.' Irene said simply. Never would she tell Teresa she stayed back to watch a Year 1 who she barely knows play the piano, because she felt the girl was beautiful. The black-haired woman would never let her rest, after her unhealthy relationship with her second girlfriend. Teresa tilted her head to the side. If she did not buy the vague excuse, she did not show any sign of digging further.

'I see. Just make sure you don't get held up so many times it starts giving me gastric problems.'

'Well, I'm sorry for making you wait today.'

Teresa waved the apology away nonchalantly. 'I did push back our meal too.' She paused as the drinks arrived. 'So, when is your mom returning?'

-**_Wind Flower-_**

Two days after the night she met Flora, Irene started staying back to linger outside the music room to listen to the girl play her instruments. Mostly she just stood outside and peered in through the tinted glass, but there were a few separate occasions where she knocked on the door and received the junior's invitation to go in. The athlete memorised the time that the musician would go to the room. Once she even stayed until Flora left at ten minutes before nine. Irene felt like a stalker, but she always managed to rationalise that she stayed back for the music played out by those talented fingers. When Flora was around, however, her eyes begged to differ. Often she caught herself being too busy gazing at the delicate blonde to truly appreciate the music. What was more concerning, however, was Teresa's growing suspicion of her friend's frequent loitering in the campus until after dark. Irene's excuses had degraded from training, to studies, to personal training, to "I don't feel like going home yet." Maybe the next excuse would be that she foresaw herself having diarrhoea and did not want a more expensive water bill at home.

Bottom line: Irene was strongly attracted to Flora. No matter how she wanted to deny and rationalise, the truth always burst to the surface during the music sessions. And so the question now is, should the athlete take a step with the musician?

It was not answered by the 21-year-old, not until a little more than two weeks later.

'Get me a Hershey's choc bar and a bottle of green tea, would you?' Teresa called after Irene as the silver-haired student stepped out of the air-conditioned study room that they were studying in. The slim woman felt stiff after staying in the room for a few hours and announced her intention to go to the convenience store to get a snack, which led to an order list from her friends.

'And a bag of chips.' Sophia added. 'Wouldn't be too heavy for you, would it?' She flashed a smile. Noel made no action whatsoever, earphones plugged into her ears, engrossed in the stack of notes on the table in front of her.

'Pigs.' Irene muttered under her breath. 'Lazy ones at that.'

'I heard that.' Teresa's drawl floated through before Irene shut the door.

She made her way down the hallway, running a hand through her hair to smooth it down. Often, after a long study session, Irene would look at herself in the mirror and find her hair tousled. She did not even remember how it got that way, most of the time. She sighed and stretched her back. It always felt good to walk around after staying still for a long period of time. A quick glance down at the watch told her it was 4.35pm. About two and a half more hours before the group of four would leave the school for dinner together.

As Irene approached the corner, a familiar feminine voice drifted to her ears.

'I said no! Now leave me alone!' It sounded forceful, and upset. _Flora? _It was Flora's voice, definitely. She sounded more unique than most people. At least to Irene, anyway.

Irene peered around the corner. It indeed was Flora, and she was being accosted by three other guys. The Taekwondo athlete recognised them, the school's football jocks. The two standing a little further back were two muscleheads who always followed their master around like faithful dogs. The "master", was the one closest to Flora, at an uncomfortable proximity. Hank Gregs, Irene recalled his name. A well-known bully in the campus. Irene had never really paid much attention to him normally, but right now, she decided she hated his guts. Hated his guts for laying a thick hand on Flora's shoulder. He turned the girl around with some force.

'Come on, baby.' Gregs cooed with his disgusting, oily voice. 'You won't regret it. I'll show you how a real man looks like,' He put his hand over his crotch and thrust it up in Flora's direction, eliciting a look of utter revulsion from the woman. 'And feels like. Haha… You'll be begging for more when-,' He did not get to finish his sentence. Irene felt surprised, and smiled involuntarily. Flora had swung her fist at his jaw, making his head snap to the side. Gregs staggered a bit, his hand reaching up to touch where he was hit, then glared at Flora.

'I'm gonna make you regret that. _So. Fucking. Bad._' The jock took hold of Flora's wrists in a death grip and pushed, slamming her against the wall and pinning her there.

'Oi,' Irene's voice carried over to them clearly. 'Get your filthy hands off her.' She walked sure-footedly over. Flora's eyes widened as she caught sight of the senior.

'Damn,' One of the cronies grunted. 'She's that Taekwondo girl, boss. Watch out.'

'Shut your mouth.' Gregs hissed back before turning his attention back to the approaching martial artist. He put on lop-sided grin. 'What's up, poppet? Lonely? Looking for a threeso-,'

Again, he did not get to finish his sentence. Irene used a knife-hand chop downwards at Gregs' elbow, instilling pain in his arm and causing him to let go of one of Flora's hand. Without giving him time to react, Irene reached forward and wrenched his other hand away as well. Stepping between Flora and Gregs, she shoved the jock backwards, making him stumble foolishly. The two cronies growled, not unlike well-trained hounds, and stepped forward, catching their leader and getting ready to pounce on the offending woman. Gregs recovered his balance and immediately made his way toward the silver-haired woman.

'You fucking dyke!' He roared as he drew a closed fist back to throw a punch. To an outsider, the size of the fist and its owner was intimidating, threatening. But to the trained fighter, he was slow, too overcome with anger to fully concentrate on what he was doing. He made a mistake of drawing his fist back; it gave Irene a clear sign that he intended to punch her. Using the time Gregs needed to extend his arm fully from its withdrawn position to make contact with her face, Irene's hand shot out directly from her side, fist forming halfway in its path and making painful impact on her victim's nose. She felt the crushing of the bones in the bridge of his nose against her knuckles. Irene swiftly followed up the punch by slamming her foot into his groin. A forceful exhale burst from Gregs mouth and his eyes promptly welled up with tears from the pain, but it was not over just yet. As he curled inward from the pain, his hands moving to cover his crotch, Irene shot an open palm strike into his solar plexus. The meathead, mouth now gaping like a fish, crumpled to the floor, curled in a foetal position and whimpering.

His cronies stood frozen, not daring to move as they witnessed their leader get hammered with strikes by the martial artist. They shuffled backwards involuntarily as Irene fixed them with a poisonous glare.

'Get out of my sight.' She spat. '_Now._'

They could not stop staring in fear at the woman even as they timidly stepped forward and dragged the traumatised Gregs away from the scene. Irene waited until they rounded a corner before turning to the junior behind her. Flora was staring at her, with those shining green eyes, but Irene could detect the relief in them.

'Thank you.' Flora said with a smile, that turned into a slight grimace as her hand, the one she punched Gregs with, twitched.

Irene looked down at the hand, and saw that the last two knuckles were red. Flora held her hand gently with the other. 'I think… I hurt myself.'

Concerned, Irene took the wounded hand in her own, examining the red, slightly swelling area. She gently prodded it with a finger, and Flora's hand twitched again.

'I think you cracked your knuckles…' Irene said softly, as she ran a thumb over the wounded area. 'Does it hurt a lot? Do the bones feel misplaced?'

'It hurts… But I don't know about the bones.'

'Can you move your fingers?'

Flora managed to raise the last two, albeit with lots of pain.

'Ah… I see. It should be fine. Come.' Irene stepped down the hallway, pulling at Flora's hand to make the junior follow her.

She made her way to the locker room, and quickly walked over to her own locker. Letting go of Flora's hand, she motioned to the bench in front of the row of metal compartments. 'Sit down first. I'll bandage the fingers for you.' The blonde sat down, as the silver-haired student rummaged for awhile in her locker, then extracted a roll of adhesive tape. A medical one, that is. She placed herself next to Flora, and took the latter's hand again.

'This will only take a minute…' Irene informed the blonde as she wrapped the tape around the base of Flora's last two fingers and her knuckles. When she was done, she held her work up for inspection. Satisfied, she asked, 'Is it too tight?' Flora shook her head, and this action somehow elicited a smile from Irene.

'Well, then. Try not to move your fingers around too much. If you think it's serious, you should go see a doctor tomorrow or the day after. They'll give you a support to wear and let your fingers rest on it.'

'Thanks, again.' Flora gave her another smile, one reciprocated by her senior. 'You were amazing just now.' The blonde's smile widened, as did Irene's eyes, though fractionally.

'Um… well, I'm trained.' Irene cleared her throat, starting to feel awkward under Flora's unwavering gaze. 'It's nothing much.'

'Could you teach me some of that?' Flora inquired with interest. 'If you have the time, that is.'

'Oh. Of course.' She cocked her head, a playful smile growing on her lips. 'But in return for the lessons, what will you give me?' She felt amused at Flora's blush that rose at her last few words.

'Um. I-, uh…' The junior stammered, but was saved from the trouble by the senior.

'If I teach you some of my techniques, then will you let me listen to you play music?'

Flora looked a little taken back. 'Of course,' She repeated Irene's words. A second later, the beginnings of a mischievous smile grew. 'But… I think you've already been listening to me play for awhile now.' Irene's heart stopped. 'Is that spot by the window really that comfortable?' Irene's mouth slowly dropped open, her brain screaming at her to deny doing anything of that sort.

'W-what? No, I… I never…' Irene's voice drifted off, realising how futile she sounded. Especially in front of Flora's bemused expression.

'You know, normally people would change their hiding spot after being caught the first time. So I just thought that you preferred standing out in the corridor, rather than sit in an air-conditioned room…' Flora teased her senior, who kept her lips pursed, refusing to pout and fighting valiantly to keep her blush from rising obviously to her cheeks.

Keeping Irene uncomfortable for a prolonged time on purpose, the woman refusing to look at her junior, Flora decided to give the senior a break.

'Anyway,' She said lightly. 'I can't really play for awhile now, can I?' She held up her injured hand to Irene to make a point.

'That means you still owe me something.' Irene tried to take control over the situation again. Just then, a brilliant idea popped into her mind. 'Would you mind giving me your phone number?' She ventured.

Flora blinked, her eyes never leaving Irene's gaze. _There you go, Irene. _The elfin-eared woman told herself. _Making a first move. _The silent eye contact went on for awhile, and the senior took the time to appreciate Flora's eyes again. _Was she being too obvious? _

'_Fly me to the moon, and let me play among the stars… Let me see what spring is like-'_

Irene's phone rang, disrupting the silent exchange. She cursed in her head. At least it was not a techno piece anymore. She had changed it to a more jazzy type by Utada Hikaru. Irene checked the screen and groaned inwardly.

_Incoming call – Teresa_

_Damned woman! Why do you have to ruin all my moments? _She thought as she received the call.

'_Hello? Irene? Where have you gone? You're taking so long-,' _

'I'll call you back.' Irene cut her off and ended the call, albeit feeling a little guilty.

'Do you need to be somewhere now?' Flora asked her senior.

Irene shook her head. She then held out the phone to Flora, giving the latter a pointed look. The blonde smiled shyly, and took the phone, typing in her phone number. She handed the phone back when she was done, and said, 'Send me a message, so I can save your number in my phone.' Flora gave another smile and stood up, Irene following her actions.

'I will.'

'Well then,' Flora made a move towards the door. 'Bye.'

'Bye.'

Irene watched Flora until the door swung closed. Slowly, she sank back down onto the bench, a silly grin plastered on her face.

_Score._

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><p>*dojang - training hall in Korean. Equivalent of dojo.<p>

Hope none of you has any violent objections against Taekwondo or any form of martial arts. (No pun intended)

Congratulations on trudging through that plethora of words. *handshake* Please review, comment, criticise, etc, on my non-action scenes! I feel it needs improvement, but don't know what or how. Thanks for your help!


	2. Dancing Around Each Other

Seems like I'm rather pumped about this, huh? Thanks for the reviews! I did not expect that many. As for the question about Teresa and Irene being together, I'd like to be evil and leave it alone. But right now, they are not dating.

I hope this chapter is up to standard!

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><p><em>Bounce to you, bounce to you, my heart is beating so fast for you<em>

_To the point it can't be caught;_

_Attracted to you and is beating so fast that I can't get you_

_Break it down to you, down to you, if my heart_

_Can't get you it's gonna stop (Look at me)_

_- Bonamana, Super Junior_

**Chapter 2: Dancing Around Each Other**

It was only a phone number. A short, simple string of digits strung together to help you contact someone quickly. It was neutral. But somehow it managed to make her feel as happy as, or maybe happier than when she won the championships last year. Except, well, it was not really the same victory-high euphoria she experienced. It was more like the drunken, giddy feeling she had while the medal was being put around her neck. The feeling that she had finally accomplished something. But this was also different, different from the competition-induced excitement. This was more… _emotional? Soft? _Sighing softly,Irene shook her head as she stepped out of the store, a plastic bag of snacks in one hand and a Magnum Gold in the other, with a bite already taken out of it. Trying to put a label on what she was feeling is like trying to run from one point to another. While on a treadmill. It would get her nowhere. What matters is that she already got the number. What she did next was more important.

She pondered over it, taking another bite out of her ice cream while suppressing the smile that clawed furiously to get onto her face. It would not do for her to be seen walking around the campus smiling like a fool to herself. She chewed on the chocolate in her mouth and swallowed it. _I should get closer to her first. _Irene decided. It would be weird for someone, a stranger whom you caught peeking at you through a window, to ask you out in such a short time. Better to let things flow first, before deciding on a course of action. _But of course, avoiding a permanent place in the friend-zone is also important. _She reminded herself. Irene had already sent a message to Flora, shortly after she left. 'Hi. Irene here. So now you have my number.' She had stared at the message for awhile, wondering if it was too terse or short. But she did not know what else to type in, so she just left the message as it was and sent it. Over thinking did not help, most of the time.

The silver-haired student reached the study room and went in, bracing herself against the inevitable questioning she was about to face.

'Why did you take so long?' Teresa opened her mouth first.

'You have a competition in two weeks, Irene. You're really out of shape.' Sophia supplied.

Noel, like before, kept quiet, but only because she had her head on her folded arms, sleeping.

'Shut up.' Irene retorted. 'I was about to treat you all to the food, but I guess not.'

'Watch out, everyone. We got a badass over here.' Teresa held up her hands up mockingly before snatching over the bag her friend placed on the table.

Irene rolled her eyes, then settled down in her seat, depositing her wallet into her bag. She pulled out her phone, intending to put it on the desk, but a new message caught her eye.

_Flora – So now I do. Haha._

Irene stared at it for awhile, and typed in a reply. 'Aren't you a lucky one? How's your hand doing?' She sent it, and set the phone on the table. But before Irene could get engaged with her notes again, another message came.

'_It's barely been an hour since I punched that jerk, Irene. Of course it still hurts._'

'Of course. Take care of yourself. The bandage is waterproof, by the way. So you can bathe with it.'

Irene made to set the phone on the desk again, and noticed Teresa's eyes on her.

'What?'

'You're smiling. At your phone.' Teresa fixed her with a suspicious gaze.

Irene blinked, unaware of her facial expression, then pressed her lips together. She frowned at Teresa.

'So? Is a person not entitled to smile?'

Teresa smiled sweetly at her. 'Of course she is. But it is not typical of you, Irene, to smile at a message on your phone.' She turned her eyes on Irene's gadget. 'May I ask who is it?' Irene kept her face straight. This woman is sharp, Irene reminded herself, and it seems like she was starting to put what scant few pieces of information she had together.

'Yes, you may. It's Leo.' Irene lied smoothly, using the name of the Taekwondo Club's vice-president, whose carefree personality would help reinforce the credibility of her lie. 'Would you like to hear the joke?'

'Oh? "Hear" the joke? I'd much rather read it.' Teresa smiled slyly.

'Huh. I thought you couldn't read.' Irene countered.

Noel gave a big yawn behind them. 'You two need to stop fighting like an old married couple.' She took the bag of chips from Sophia's table and ripped the top open. 'Coz you know, the more you act like something the more likely you'll become it.' She munched on a chip. 'And the thought of you two getting together is freaky.'

'Yeah.' Sophia agreed. 'And you'll probably kill each other in your sleep.' She grinned.

'I don't believe the two of you have the right to lecture us about "fighting like an old married couple."' Teresa shot back. 'Am I right, Number Three and, or, Four?'

Irene couldn't help the smirk from forming. Noel and Sophia had tied each other for 3rd place in the overall academic performance for their level last year, with Teresa coming in first and Irene second. Ever since then, the two, who already bickered on a daily basis, started to quibble even more, fighting to decide who was better than whom. No conclusion yet. _Probably will never even have one, _Irene mused, _give them ten years and they'll still quarrel._

Her phone vibrated again, drawing her out of her inner musings.

'_Ok. Thanks again. See you soon._'

And there it was. A conversation ender. Irene gave a mental sigh as she bit off another chunk of ice cream, reducing the treat's size to half of the original. _Oh well. At least there'll be more opportunities in future._

_**-Wind Flower-**_

Irene switched off the hair dryer and slotted it back into its stand beside the dressing table. She examined herself in the mirror as she ran her hands through her silky hair, using her fingers as a makeshift comb, pulling out the knots and letting her hair fall naturally down. If there was anything Irene was vain about, it was her hair. Its uncommon colour was something she inherited from her father. Though it looked white at first glance, there was a shiny quality to it that helped to bring out its silver sheen. Irene loved it. She loved the way each strand flowed through her fingers. She toyed with her fringe, which she kept tucked behind her ears most of the time. Irene used to have an actual, shorter fringe that swept downward from right to left, so that fell just above her eyes, the longer sides of it framing her face. But then she decided that she looked too immature with it and was tired of continuously pushing her hair out of her eyes, so she grew it long and hid it behind her ears. Irene thought it made her look more professional and reliable. Once she was satisfied, the elven woman rose out of the seat, her hands tucking her fringe behind her ears again, and she made her way over to her computer to turn it on. She remained standing, her hands still running through her silver strands, waiting for the computer to power up. Then a thought formed. Irene hesitated for second, before she walked out of her room, and into the "hobby room", as her mother lovingly called it.

The hobby room was odd, Irene admitted as she looked over the place. The space was divided to two. On one side was Irene's mother's music space, where she kept her instruments and practiced in when at home. The dark teak upright piano was against the wall, and not far from it was the cello sitting in its stand, wrapped in a transparent plastic wrap to prevent dust from accumulating on it. There was also a violin and a Chinese guzheng. Her mother learnt how to play the Oriental instrument because she took a liking to it, thus leading to its addition into her collection. Guests who saw it usually found it strange. But what they found stranger, was the assembly of martial arts gear that was arranged opposite the musical collection. This was Irene's half of the room, her training area at home. A punching bag was hung at one side. Near it was a training dummy, or her "anger management toy" if by chance she came home pissed off. There was also a stand to help her hold up her smaller kicking targets, and beside it on the floor were her two sets of sparring guards. This martial arts area stood in direct contrast to the musical side, but Irene appreciated the arrangement. It reminded her that no matter how different martial arts and music were, they were still "arts" at the end of the day. They were just "soft" and "hard" arts. But not many people saw it like she did, did they? Irene smiled to herself, shaking her head lightly as she made her way over to the piano.

She sat down, and lifted the cover to reveal the keys. She ran a finger over the keys, and was satisfied to find it rather clean. When her mother was away, Irene helped to take care of her parent's equipment. This used to be her father's duty, until he passed away when she was 15. He was on a flight to Russia for business, but an engine malfunction caused the pilot to lose control of the plane and it crashed. 48 lives were lost in that crash, and her father was one of them. Irene sighed and pulled herself back from memories of her mother and her 15-year-old self weeping over his casket. It was six years ago, and she had moved on along with her mother. Irene reached up and picked a scorebook randomly from a stack resting on top of the piano. She flipped it until she found a piece she liked and placed it in front of her. Slowly, she reacquainted herself with the piano, familiarizing herself with the flow that her mother had taught her when she was younger. Just like that, she started playing piece after piece, finding soothing calm in the music she played out…

…Until she remembered she had left her computer on.

_**-Wind Flower-**_

'_Stop callin', stop callin', I don't wanna think anymore. I left my head and my heart on the dance floor. Stop callin', stop callin', I don't wanna talk anymore…'_

Irene stirred in her bed, a faint crease in her brows as she reached for the ringing phone on her nightstand. She had changed the ringtone again, this time to Lady Gaga's Telephone because she thought it was funny to have your ringtone say "stop calling". But right now it did not amuse her as much as it did when she was awake. It grated on her sleepy nerves. Irene patted around her nightstand until she found her phone, then accepted the call, placing the phone to her ear.

'Hello.' The word was mumbled incoherently out of her mouth.

'Oh. Oh sorry, dear. I forgot that it's early morning for you over there.' It was her mom. 'Were you sleeping?'

By now part of Irene's brain was conscious, and it was the sarcasm portion, apparently. 'No, mom… I'm dancing in the shower right now…' Her words came out slightly drawled.

'Well, well, well. Look what we have here. A smartypants.'

'Why did you call?' Irene kept her eyes shut.

'My performance in France was cancelled last minute. So I'll be home sometime next week.'

'Mmm…'

'Do you have class tomorrow?'

'Mmm…'

'Tsk. What time is it?'

Irene fished for the information in her head. 'Uh… 1.30.'

'Oh. What time is it now?'

The sleepy woman mimicked her mother's '_tsk_' and turned her head, cracking an eye open to look at the clock on the bedside table. '3.30.'

'Ah. Well then. I shall let you sleep now. Will call you tomorrow night. I love you, Irene. My beautiful, sarcastic piece of work.'

'Love you too, mom.' Irene mumbled, listening to her mother end the call before letting her hand slide back down onto the bed, not bothering to place the phone back on the nightstand. A decision she regretted immediately the next morning when she found it lying on the floor next to the bed.

_**-Wind Flower-**_

Irene shouted, closing in on her opponent and swinging her leg in an arc to land a head hit. Leo's eyes widened, the woman's speed catching him off guard, but he managed to backpedal last minute to avoid the flying foot. The captain did not even give him time to recover. She moved in for the kill, spinning around as soon as she was close enough, and delivered a back thrust against Leo's chest. With his balance already off, the addition of Irene's sole pushing against his chest threw off his center of gravity even more and made him fly backwards. His arms flung out to try and break his fall, and he landed on his behind. The other club members watching the casual match burst out in laughter. Even their coach was smiling.

'Damn, Leo! You got owned again! Hahaha!'

'Nice technique, man! What do you call that? The Sprawling Starfish?'

'Oi, I want a replay! Leo, get your ass up so Irene can kick it again!'

'Irene, I know you like girls, but I think you should consider taking Leo as a husband. He's gonna be one helluva hen-pecked husband for you!' Another wave of laughter rippled through the dojang, and it was infectious. Irene grinned as she took her head guard off, watching as Leo did the same, except that he threw that protective equipment at the offending person.

'Shut up, Gavin!' Leo scrambled over to his friend and trapped him in a head lock, a wide playful smile on his face. 'You can have a bout with our Lightning Queen, then!' He pointed a thumb at Irene, who was taking off her body guard.

'Nah, it's okay man. She's taken off her gear already, anyway.'

'She doesn't need any gear to wipe your ass all over the floor, bud!' Leo gave him a rough noogie.

Irene shook her head in amusement, as she proceeded to pack her guards into her pack. As she was putting on her shoes, her coach came over.

'Good job, Irene.' He wore a proud, satisfied smile. 'I think you're going to sweep the competition like last year.'

'Thank you, sir. But I think I'm going to continue being humble until after it's over.' She replied, and received a pat on the shoulder.

'Well, I'm not going to boost your ego either. Just keep training and-,'

Irene's phone rang. She excused herself and stepped further away from the coach and the merry group in the training hall. It was Flora. Irene's heart started beating a little faster as she wondered what brought this call on. She put the phone to her ear.

'Hello?'

'Hello, Irene?' Flora's gentle voice came over the phone, causing a small squeeze in her chest. 'Am I interrupting your training or anything?'

'No. We just ended.' Irene replied, just as she remembered Flora's injured hand. Concern immediately washed over her. 'Is anything wrong? Is your hand okay?'

'No, no! My hand is fine. I'm at Keiton Mall right now, and there's a group of Taekwondo people performing on the stage, the one in the middle of the mall. They're from Hansen University. You're having a competition soon, right? I thought this might interest you.'

'Really?' It did interest her, in fact. Hansen was the second overall runner-up in last year's competition. The first runner-up was Westville. 'I see. Should be interesting. I'll be there in awhile. Thanks, Flora.'

'No problem. Hope I helped.'

'You did, Flora.' The "Lightning Queen" caught herself smiling unconsciously. _I really need to stop doing that… _'Oh, and… um,'

'Yes?'

'Will you still be there later?' Irene asked tentatively, she did not even know where she was going with this.

'I guess so.' Came the reply. 'I've just arrived here.'

'That means I can meet you there, right?' Her tongue seemed to work by itself.

'Oh, yes, of course.' There was curiosity in her voice, which became a little softer.

'Okay, then. I'm on my way. Thanks again. Bye.'

'Bye.'

Irene put the phone away, then quickly addressed the people in the dojang.

'Hey, people.' She drew their attention to herself. 'Hansen's club is having a demonstration at Keiton Mall right now. Anyone wants to take a look with me?'

'Ooh. Spying now, are we?' Leo grinned. 'I'm in!' The rest of the competition team also voiced their assent.

'Good, now hurry up. We don't want to miss the show.' There was a chorus of "Yes, boss!" as Irene made her way for the door, while the rest of the club, along with their coach, got ready for their mini trip. She stepped outside the training hall and, taking a deep breath of fresh air, got reminded that she was going to the mall without taking a shower. And she would most probably be looking for Flora there as well. Irene dug into her pack for her deodorant, and sprayed it. As she stowed the can back into her bag, Deneve stepped out of the training hall. Deneve was a Year 1, who showed quite a lot of potential in the arena. Her attacks were clean, fast and calculated. Like Irene, her face was an impassive mask during a fight. Some were already saying that she would take over Irene's position as president, or Leo's as vice-prez, when the seniors stepped down.

'Hey.' Deneve said. She was not a conversationalist normally. But she had trained with Irene most of the time for the past few months. So they were rather familiar with each other. 'So how did you know Hansen was demonstrating?'

'A friend of mine is there right now, so she called me.'

'I see.' It was all Deneve managed to say before the loud group of athletes burst out of the dojang, on the way to a small invasion of Keiton Mall.

_**-Wind Flower-**_

As the Claymore students neared the center of the mall, the sound of fast-paced pop music reached their ears. There was a large crowd gathered around the stage, with cameras in their hands, taking photos and videos of the performance in front of them. Hansen's athletes were demonstrating various kicks, with lots of acrobatics thrown in to make the show entertaining for the audience. Irene watched as a female student ran and, stepping on the hands of her comrades, leaped into the air and kicked the wooden board held high up by two other guys, one standing on the shoulders of the other. As the wood split into two, the crowd cheered. Irene smirked to herself. The tricks, though commonly performed by Taekwondo groups everywhere, were more difficult than one thought, and it served to show one's skill level. But this was just a demonstration. It did not have the pressure of winning, the threat of an opponent, or the tension that was always present in the arena. Schools used demonstrations just as a means to help their athletes overcome stage fright. Claymore's club had done the same thing last year, and it was a rather effective ego-booster, having a large crowd cheer and stare in awe as you executed a move you had learnt through hard work.

The demonstration continued, but Irene's attention on the stage was gone. She searched the crowd for the blonde who called her just now, but there were just too many bodies blocking her view. Even with her height, she could not catch sight of the one she was looking for. Irene caught Leo giving her an inquisitive look, perhaps wondering why the president was not focusing on the stage but directing her eyes everywhere else. She gave him a mild glare and forced her eyes back onto the demonstration. She would look for Flora later. _Or is she not here anymore? _The uncertain thought entered her mind, but she pushed it away. The girl had told her she would be here. So she will be here. No need to think so much.

At last, the performance finished. The demonstrators all went up on stage, and bowed in unison to the crowd, then raised their hands to accept the applause from the audience. Then the large congregation of people slowly dispersed.

'Well, then! Shall we have dinner together?' Leo turned to ask the rest of them. There were both 'yes' and 'no' in reply. Irene kept quiet, looking for the blonde again.

'Irene? What about you?' The vice-president inquired.

'Hm? I…' Irene's eyes continue to search her surroundings, and finally landed on familiar blonde locks. Her heart skipped. 'I don't think so.' She turned to give Leo, who was trying to act cute by pouting, an apologetic look followed by an eye-roll. 'Stop that.'

'Oh fine. Bye then, you party-pooper.' He gave an exaggerated sigh and waved his hand, like a king dismissing his subject.

The captain rolled her eyes heavenwards yet again, before waving them goodbye and making her way towards the gentle girl. As she approached, Flora noticed her and smiled.

'Hi.' Irene started, unable to think of what else to say.

'Hi…' Flora replied, but then she looked over the senior's shoulder. 'Oh, Deneve… I forgot you were in the club too.' Irene turned to find Deneve walking towards them.

'Flora.' Deneve inclined her head in greeting. 'So you were the one who told Irene?'

'Yes. I hope it did not waste your time…' Flora looked uncertainly between the two martial artists.

'No, it did not.' Irene assured her. 'It gives us ideas for our upcoming demonstration.' Deneve nodded in agreement. Flora smiled yet again. _She has such a beautiful smile,_ Irene thought to herself, eyes not leaving the junior's face.

'How did the two of you know each other?' The brown-haired junior asked, a faint crease appearing between her brows. 'Was it through Clare?' She looked at her president, who blinked. Clare was Teresa's so-called protégé in the school's Gymnastics club, and the girl had taken to following her senior around when she had free time in school. Irene had wondered why the black-haired woman had not already chased, or intimidated, the girl away. She had attracted many admirers since high school, both guys and girls who either wanted to get a girlfriend or just get laid. But Teresa had rejected each and every one of them, telling them she simply was not interested in getting attached. She did not want to get "tied down" by a relationship, the gorgeous woman had told Irene airily, and added that she felt annoyed at people following her around. Irene just shrugged, telling her friend that she was sparing herself from unnecessary heartache anyway. But Clare was not a romantic attachment, was she? Irene decided that it was just Teresa's motherly instincts coming into play with the girl, after coming across her friend patting the junior's head affectionately one day.

Irene remembered Clare hanging out around the school with Jean, and vaguely recalled the pair playing basketball with Deneve and her two other friends, whose name escaped her at the moment. Was Flora Clare's friend?

Flora, seeing that her senior was not about to answer yet, replied first. 'No, actually we met by accident.' She glanced quickly at Irene, who was slowly returning her attention back onto the conversation. 'I think we… clicked.' Flora looked questioningly at Irene, who gave a small smile in return.

Deneve quirked an eyebrow slightly, examining both girls, though her eyes stayed on Irene a little longer. 'I see.' The silver-haired woman felt as if Deneve was catching on a little, and kept her face neutral.

'Aren't you eating dinner with your club?' The blonde pointed at the retreating backs of the Taekwondo club, looking inquiringly at both the athletes.

'No.' Deneve replied, looking down at her watch. 'I'm meeting Miria at Helen's house. Helen's cooking.' Flora smiled more widely at the mention of Helen.

'Helen loves food, doesn't she?' The blonde sounded amused. Deneve shook her head resignedly.

'Yes, she does. And at the rate she's feeding me and Miria, we're going to get fat, one day.' Deneve made to leave. 'Well, it was nice seeing you. Bye.' The short-haired woman turned, and left the remaining two alone.

'What about you?' Flora turned to face Irene.

'Were you about to eat here?' Irene answered the question with another. The blonde nodded. 'Would you mind if I ate with you?' As the last word left her mouth, Irene's blood ran a little faster than usual.

Flora stared at her for awhile, looking a little surprised, but she recovered quickly. 'No.' The junior gave another smile. Irene swore that her heart just skipped a beat. 'Where would you like to eat? I haven't really decided where to go yet.'

'Oh…' Irene ran mentally through the various shops that she remembered were this mall, then remembered something, looking quickly up at the fourth floor. 'I think there's a new pasta place that just opened. It's on the fourth floor.'

'Okay, then. Let's go.'

Fifteen minutes later, they were shown into the casual restaurant to their seats. The waitress handed them the menu, and went through the customary introductions of the soup of the day, chef's choice pick, etc, then left them to look through the selection of food. They went through their menus in silence, before Irene waved a waiter over and they placed their orders. When they were left alone again, Irene attempted to start a conversation so that they were not just sitting awkwardly and looking at each other. They were still unfamiliar after all, having just met.

'So, were you here alone? No one to accompany you or anything?' Irene asked.

'Hm? No. I just came here for a quick dinner. Then I saw the Hansen demonstration and called you.' Flora gave a small shrug.

'I see. Your parents are not at home?' Irene tossed the question over innocently, but she regretted it. Flora seemed to stiffen a little. The senior examined her more closely, and realized that the blonde looked mildly tired. Her eyes lacked the same clarity that they had when the two just met at the music room. _Did I say something wrong? _Irene thought uncomfortably as she saw Flora shift a little.

'No. I live alone.'

'Oh. You moved out?'

Flora tilted her head. 'I moved here to Sutare to study. My parents are in France.'

'You're French?' Irene lifted a brow.

'Half.' Flora corrected. 'My father's French, my mother's Korean.' A hint of amusement entered her eyes. 'I don't look like it, huh?'

'Actually, you do look like it. People with mixed blood are usually more good-looking than average.' The indirect compliment slipped past her lips, but Irene did not make any attempt to change the position she had put herself in. This advance on the girl could give a hint on whether she was… open, or interested. Although she hoped that she had not stepped across the line. Her pulse quickened, but her anxiety was driven away by the blonde's next words.

'So you are mixed too, then?' Flora said it with a shy smile, before her gaze dropped and her hand started playing with her fork. Irene blinked, caught a little off guard by the response, but she let a smile spread across her face at the sight of the blush tingeing the younger's cheeks. Her heart lifted greatly, but she noted her pulse did not calm down. Instead did just the opposite. The senior looked down at Flora's fidgeting hand and squashed a sudden impulse to lay her hand over it.

'No. Both my parents are Sutarean. But,' Irene went through her family tree in her mind. 'my maternal grandmother was Japanese. So I guess I'm a one-quarter mix.'

'I see.' Flora lifted her gaze to meet Irene's, but before she could say anything the waiter brought over their soups.

'Thank you.' The waiter smiled at them and left.

As Flora brought a spoonful of soup into her mouth, Irene asked her another question, hoping fervently for a positive answer to this one. 'So… are you moving back to France after you finish your studies?'

A weird look came over the beautiful girl's face. She swallowed the broth, placing the spoon back into the soup bowl and stirring it. 'I'm applying for citizenship here.' She looked up at Irene's curious gaze, then dropped back to the soup bowl. 'I… don't want to go back to France.' Flora pressed her lips together.

Irene decided to change the topic of conversation. She was obviously treading on dangerous waters. 'What course are you taking?

'Music. That's my major.' Flora replied, looking slightly relieved at the change in direction. 'I'm taking fashion design as a minor.'

'Hm?' Irene tilted her head. 'You're interested in design?'

'Well…' Flora started slowly. 'If all else fails… if I don't want to pursue music anymore, then I want a safety net, you know?' She connected her gaze with Irene's. 'What about you?'

'I'm majoring in business, with a minor in English literature.' The silver-haired woman lifted a brow at the blonde's amused expression. 'What?'

'You have the business look… But I can't imagine you writing poems. You look more like a money-making cutthroat.' Flora said with a smile.

'Ouch.' But Irene reciprocated her interest's smile. But their moment was interrupted by the arrival of their food, and the ringing of Flora's phone. When the waitress moved away, Irene saw the blonde's face cloud over as she looked at the ringing device.

'Excuse me.' Flora slid out of her chair and walked out of the restaurant. Irene watched her back as it left the restaurant, concerned at her change in demeanour.

After awhile, as Irene was depositing a forkful of linguine into her mouth, Flora returned, her face looking sombre, even though she tried to hide it.

'Are you all right?' Irene probed a little. Her concern was not alleviated by the other's nod and tight smile, but she tried to start a new conversation.

'So, where do you live?' And with that, they went through dinner with mild conversation, though Irene remained conscious of Flora's slightly withdrawn attitude. After dinner, Irene, on the pretense of making a house call to one of her friends, rode on the same bus as Flora until the girl alighted. Then she got off the bus on the next stop and made her way home. As she inserted the key into the lock of her door, her phone rang. Irene pushed the door open as she placed the phone against her ear, not bothering to check who was calling.

'Hello?' Irene closed the door behind her and locked it.

'Hello, sweetheart. I hope you're not sleeping this time?'

'No, mom. I just came home.' Irene slipped off her shoes and moved towards her room.

'Good, so I can talk to you more. I'm going to be back next Thursday, and I should be home longer this time round…'

_**-Wind Flower-**_

Irene controlled her breathing, in through the nose and out through the mouth. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail; stray silver strands were matted on the sides of her face with perspiration. Her headphones transmitted music directly into her ears, connected to the iPhone strapped to her bicep. Her calves were burning with the effort of running the extra distance she forced herself to go today. Irene wiped away beads of perspiration from her eyes with the back of her hand, focusing on her destination for today. _Just a bit more, _Irene egged herself on, and she picked up her speed, pushing herself the last few metres to her designated end point. The athlete finally reached it in a few minutes, hands holding onto the railings for support as tried to catch her breath and stretched her leg muscles. She turned her face skyward, straightening her body to get as much oxygen into her lungs as possible.

It was Friday night; one of Irene's designated days for her runs. She looked out over the vista from her vantage point. From the railing she stood behind, there was a slope of rocks which went downwards before touching the sea. Irene closed her eyes, letting the cool sea breeze caress her face. She loved night runs. Running without the sun bearing down on her with its heat is so much more comfortable, and it spared her from a tan she did not want to get. There were also not many people in the park at this time, and she was not afraid of any attacks. She was, after all, trained. The lithe woman stretched her back, music still playing through her headphones, and bounced lightly on the balls of her feet. Irene felt proud of herself for achieving a longer running distance this time. It would certainly help with her stamina in the sparring competition.

She smiled to herself, enjoying the view of the sea before walking up a nearby slope to a higher point of the park. The slope, though it had been a popular road for people to climb, became less popular ever since the park was expanded, with the addition of new exercise installments and a playground. That suited Irene just fine. It gave her the privacy she cherished. The slope led to a small secluded, peaceful area that was perfect for her when she felt keyed up after a day's activities. Sometimes, Irene just went there to practice her Taekwondo forms in the open and well-ventilated place.

As she reached the small clearing, she saw that one of the two benches was occupied. It was occupied by a blonde, who had wavy locks that looked terribly familiar, and a large golden retriever by her side. Irene stepped quietly around the perimeter, eyes searching for the familiar face, trying to determine if the blonde was the one she knew. _It is her, _Irene decided, as she took in the delicate form, even though the blonde's head was bowed. The dog's head was resting on its owner's knees, its ears flat on its head. Irene watched as the canine reached up and gave the girl's face a light lick, who scratched its head in return without looking.

Irene smiled, confirming that it was Flora. She made a step in the girl's direction, but stopped cold.

Tiny droplets dripped from her covered eyes.

* * *

><p>May I ask if the chapter length is too long? Should I trim it down or seperate them into different chapters?<p>

Anyway, the usual. Please review, criticise, comment, anything.


	3. Let Me Take Your Hand

Quick updates. This is what too much time can do to a writer. Anyways...

Anon said that I kept the characters in character. Thank you. I thought I'd already strapped them onto a rocket and blasted them to the dark side of the moon. Hehs...

InnerCrackling: Thank you for giving me a chance. I hope I'll make it as... painless as possible for you to continue. Haha.

* * *

><p><em>If I turn my back like this, if I disappear<em>

_I wouldn't come into bloom_

_If I just look at you like this_

_It might be good to live with my eyes closed_

_Without looking, I see you_

_Without listening, I hear you_

_Like a wind flower revived by your breathing_

_- Wind Flower, Ye Song_

**Chapter 3: Let Me Take Your Hand**

As she stood by the side, watching those tears fall slowly from the delicate girl's eyes, she felt lost. Lost, not because she did not know what to do, not because her mind could not think of anything to do. Irene knew what she wanted. She wanted to walk over, put an arm around the girl's shoulders, hold her hands, cradle that lovely face and wipe away the tears that should not even be cutting its tracks down those cheeks. But _should _she do it? Should she even approach Flora when she was so vulnerable? Would she resent the intrusion? Would she think Irene was being too nosy? It could make the blonde drift away from her. But there was also a chance that she would appreciate Irene's presence, right? _But what if… _Irene almost sighed explosively, but the other's presence kept it locked in. _Okay, fine. I am lost. _She only had this kind of dilemma when she was trying to approach her first female love interest. In all her other relationships, she broke up with her partners without second thoughts and with minimal hesitation. Irene reached up to run a hand through her hair, but remembered it was tied back in a ponytail, so she settled for dragging her nails down her cheek. She couldn't help but feel frustrated. She hated not knowing what to do. But… she could not just walk away and leave Flora like this. Irene understood herself, and she knew she would berate herself non-stop for leaving the girl alone, eventually losing most of the night's sleep. More importantly, Flora seemed a little off since their dinner together. Whenever Irene sighted Flora around the campus in the past few days, she was alone, her face tight, eyes downcast.

Irene took a deep breath, pulling her headphones down to rest around her neck, and took a few slow, experimental steps towards the bench. If she would have changed her mind or turned back the last minute, Irene would never know. She merely took four steps, before the dog resting next to Flora whipped its head around, and started barking at her. Irene froze, and saw Flora jump a little at the sudden sound before whirling her head in the direction her pet was barking at. Moist green eyes took in the distant, still form before recognition set in. Flora hurriedly turned away, her hand reached up in a futile attempt to wipe away evidence of her distress. Irene took a few more steps towards the blonde, and the dog rose up to its feet barking, but a calming touch from its owner settled it down. The silver-haired woman continued walking cautiously towards them, as Flora's eyes became fixed on her.

_Do I look that threatening? _Irene wondered while keeping her eyes on the dog. _I thought golden retrievers were friendlier. _The dog's watchful eyes remained on her the whole time, with Irene staring right back at it. When she finally reached its owner, the retriever seemed satisfied that the stranger would not do anything funny to the blonde, and sat on its hind legs.

The thin woman finally wrenched her eyes away from the dog's, to connect with Flora's. The girl held her gaze for a second, before dropping her eyes as though trying to hide them. Her hands lay on her lap, fidgeting.

'Flora? Are you all right?' The question seemed downright stupid the moment it left her lips, to Irene anyway. _Of course she's not, fool. _She grimaced inwardly, but the blonde seemed to have no reaction whatsoever.

'Is something wrong?' _Oh, keep up the intelligent questions, Irene. You'll get there one day. _The senior mentally chided herself before turning her internal monologue off. The delicate girl remained still, but Irene noticed her hands' fidgeting slowed, almost as if she forced herself to minimize the body language. _Should I back off now? _ Irene pondered nervously. Flora did not make any move to chase her away. But she also gave no indication that she wanted Irene to stay. _She's not even moving, damn it. _The girl seemed to be closing herself off. Irene shifted a little, then her eyes landed on the dog. Maybe a change of tack would help. She knelt down and reached her hand out to the pet. The retriever's eyes locked warily onto the unfamiliar hand, but it allowed Irene to pet its head softly. As the thin woman scratched its head, the dog closed its eyes and seemed to enjoy it. Then it gave a little bark, softer and different from the one it gave before, and placed its front paws on Irene's knees, tongue flicking out towards her cheek. Irene, unused to the wet greeting, cringed a little but accepted it. The canine finally withdrew, giving another bark, and Irene smiled. _Seems like it is friendly after all. _She kept her fingers on the dog and looked at Flora, to find the girl observing the exchange between the two. Crystal green irises met with deep ocean blue, and they dropped for awhile, before coming back up to make eye contact again. Her eyes, Irene noticed, were lovely even when clouded over.

'Nice dog you have here.' The senior smiled, fingers scratching the dog's fur again. 'Does it have a name?'

Flora's eyes seemed out of focus as she stared into Irene's for a moment, before blinking as if the question had just set in. 'He's called Bill.' She replied softly.

'Ah. I see.' She turned to Bill. 'Nice to meet you, Bill.' Bill barked. Whether the dog understood her entire sentence or was just responding its name, Irene did not know. But inexplicably, she was starting to like it, so she decided that it was smart and understood everything she said. 'He seems quite protective of you, Flora.' She directed the words to the blonde.

'He is.' Flora responded, but her voice was still rather flat. 'We're rather close. But he's fierce to strangers only. He warms up to you easily if he thinks you're friendly.'

'I see. So I guess I have his approval, then.' Irene turned to Bill. 'Do I, big boy?' Another bark served as confirmation. A small smile appeared on its owner's face.

'Is he more protective of you when you're upset?'

Knowing where this was going, Flora's smile faded as she broke their eye contact, looking down at her knees. Her hands started fidgeting again. Giving in to her urge, Irene laid a hand gently over the wringing fingers, trying to calm the junior down.

'Would you like to talk about it?' Irene prodded. Flora's lips tightened fractionally. Bill set his head on his owner's knees again, breaking the pair's hand contact, Irene noticed a little resentfully. His eyes were gazing at his owner's melancholy countenance, and mirrored the emotions he saw. Irene moved to seat next to her junior.

'If there's any way I can help, tell me. I'm open.' Irene stated clearly. 'You can trust me. I won't breathe a word to anyone else.'

Flora frowned, biting her lip. Then she moved her eyes up to look directly into her senior's. She gazed intently for awhile, as if trying to sieve out any hidden ill-intent from the blue irises. The scrutiny passed in silence, before Flora started hesitantly.

'Promise me.' Irene saw uncertainty in her eyes, maybe a bit of doubt. But she seemed to be giving in, almost like she wanted, or needed, an outlet. 'Promise you won't tell anybody.'

'I won't. I swear.' The silver-haired woman assured her as best as she could. 'If I do tell anyone, I'll get knocked over by a car.'

A scandalized look from the blonde. 'Don't say that! I just wanted you to promise me, that's-,'

'I'm serious, Flora.' Irene interjected. 'I'm not going to tell anyone.'

The blonde studied the athlete's face, then looked away again, sighing. She seemed… deflated. 'It's not… much, really.' She spoke slowly, as if trying to find the right words to fit. 'I mean, it's quite common nowadays…'

'Being common does not really detract an issue's effect, Flora. And if it's "not much" you wouldn't be sitting here alone.'

The junior refused to look at the older. Her hands started their nervous dance again. Irene waited patiently as her person of interest remained silent. Part of Irene felt a little disappointed at Flora's hesitance, as it showed that they were not really familiar with each other yet. Although Irene recalled that she had done the same to both her mother and Teresa too, when her father had just passed away and she refused to talk to anyone for at least two weeks before she had an emotional breakdown. Matters of the heart were difficult to divulge in, even with people close to you, much less people you are not familiar with. _I am someone she's not familiar with, _Irene thought regretfully, before her attention was caught by the parting of Flora's lips.

'My parents are getting a divorce.' The blonde said almost platonically.

'I'm sorry.'

'Don't be.' Flora's reply was automatic, and maybe a little sharp.

'Hm?' Irene was surprised by her sudden rejection of sympathy. Her face must have shown hurt involuntarily, because Flora hastened to explain herself after taking a glance at her.

'I… I'm not… close to them.' She looked out over to the sea, slowly forming her sentences. 'I travelled here to study because I did not want to… be with them.' Her hand moved over to Bill's head, gently stroking the soft fur.

'But it still hurts, doesn't it?' Irene pried. 'You came here to… reflect, after all.'

Flora fixed Irene with an unreadable gaze, her expression strange. 'I don't think I'm upset over their separation.' Her brows contracted, as if thinking of what to say. 'It's like… I don't exist. The way they make their decisions, they don't tell me anything at all. They treat me like I'm not their daughter, just some… liability they have to lug around. I just, I just…' Her words were filled with frustration, but she seemed to lose steam, looking at Irene as if she just remembered she was not alone. 'I-I'm sorry… I should not be-,'

'It's fine.' The senior interrupted. 'Just let it out. It's not healthy to keep everything inside you for too long.' Without hesitation, she added, 'I will be here as long as you need me.'

The blonde smiled humourlessly, shaking her head lightly. 'I will be fine. It's all right if you want to leave. I don't want to hold you back.'

'No.' Irene said firmly. 'I want to be here.'

'It's Friday night, Irene. You have better things to do than be-,'

'Flora.' The senior cut her off yet again. 'I-,' _I like you. I want to hold you. I want to make you smile. _So many things that she wanted to say, but Irene's voice caught in her throat, her heart beating double-time. She swallowed. 'I _want_ to be here.' Irene stared hard into the girl's eyes, as if trying to project her unspoken thoughts telepathically, 'With you.' She felt the heat rising in her neck. Did the girl understand what she was trying to say?

Another undecipherable gaze. Irene felt like she was being subjected to her own signature poker face. Flora's bottom lip twitched, but other than that gave no overt indication of what she was feeling. Then she dropped the bombshell abruptly.

'My mother is arranging a marriage for me.'

Irene blinked, made speechless by the information. Her chest felt oddly cold. Flora's words ran over a thousand times in her head. Had she been after a taken woman all this time? But... Flora had flirted back with her, right? If only for a short while. Had she been played with? She swallowed. 'You're... getting married?' Her voice came out soft. 'You have a boyfriend? A fiancé?'

'I did not say I have one.' The blonde corrected her. 'I just said a marriage is being arranged for me.'

Irene blinked again, trying to recover herself. _What? _She forced her anxiety and growing dread down, and replayed their conversation again. _Her mother is arranging a marriage for her. But she says she does not have a partner. An arranged marriage. But she did say... wait. She _did _say that her parents did not tell her about decisions they made..._ Irene's eyes widened, understanding slowly dawned upon her. The more she ran through the words they had exchanged with each other, the more she felt like hitting herself on the head. _I was not thinking straight, _Irene chided herself severely, _I let my emotions get ahead of me. Fool! _A small bubble of hope burgeoned in her chest, and she fought the smile of relief that wanted to take its place on her lips.

'Have you ever met the other party?'

Flora turned to look at Irene once more. As she gazed into viridian orbs, Irene thought she saw a sliver of hope in them. 'No. I've only seen pictures sent over to me.' The little bubble Irene was nursing grew.

'How does he look like?'

'Old.' Flora replied flatly. 'He's 46 years old, with thinning grey hair and a paunch.'

Irene cocked her head slightly. 'Huh. So why did your mother pair you with a-,'

'Money.' The junior stated simply, but explained further at Irene's raised brows. 'I told you, Irene. My parents don't treat me like a daughter. They don't really care what I feel about what they do.'

'So... I take that you don't want this marriage to happen?' The senior ventured hopefully, but forced her voice not to sound optimistic.

'Of course not.' Flora gave a tired smile. 'A normal, healthy 20-year-old girl would not be enthusiastic about marrying a fat, over-the-prime man, would she?'

'No, she would not.' Irene returned her smile. 'Is this why you want to stay in Sutare?'

'Partly.' The blonde's fingers started playing with one another again.

'Are you going to go through with this? The marriage?'

Another protracted silence. Then Flora slowly stood, her hand grasping Bill's leash. 'I think... I have to go.' She said without looking.

Irene got on her feet as well, confused by the girl's actions. 'But... Flora...' The blonde glanced back at her, her green eyes dark again. 'I'm sorry. Did I overstep?'

'Please keep your promise.' Flora said shortly before walking briskly away, leading the dog along, who looked back at the silver-haired woman and barked once, before following his owner.

'But...' Irene started, but the blonde's back was already out of sight.

That night, Irene lost sleep, tossing and turning in her bed, the encounter with Flora replaying itself over and over again in her mind. So many questions, so many uncertainties, the worry of loss. At one point, she questioned herself. Would she have felt any better if she had not approached Flora?

She became more troubled than she thought she would be, and it carried through her weekend. Irene tried studying. She could not concentrate. She tried sweating and kicking it out in her training room. It only worsened her mood. She turned on her Xbox, and only got more frustrated from getting killed more frequently than usual. She even dragged Teresa along for a day out in the city. But it had minimal benefits too, when she debated whether to consult her friend, but could not get it out, and felt guilty for not confiding in the black-haired beauty. Teresa herself had picked up on her friend's mood, and tried to get her to talk. All she got was a lousy "I think it's the premature competition jitters". Of course she did not buy that, Irene knew. Teresa was too intelligent and sharp to be held off by weak excuses. But she did not probe after being given that explanation, and did not give any obvious indication of how she felt about it. So after the trip Irene had only earned herself another relationship to worry about.

_**-Wind Flower-**_

It was late afternoon on the following Tuesday, and Irene was sparring with her teacher in the school's dojang. Her teacher, Sonya, who was a 4th dan black belt in Taekwondo, owned her own dojang and offered courses to security companies to train their employees. A year after an 11-year-old Irene had joined her club, Sonya picked up on her potential and started giving her more personal trainings as a protégé. The teacher was the one who had helped build Irene's career in this martial art, encouraging her to participate in competitions and shaping her character along the way. It was also her who had forcibly pulled Irene out of her stupor after her father's death. She had marched into Irene's room at home, given the 15-year-old a none-too-gentle whack on the head, and told her to, "_Pick yourself up! Everyone will lose their parents one day, and your loss came early. It's painful, but what matters most is that you push through the pain and get up! Look at your mother! She's already pulled herself together! Are you going to let one incident to take you down, you weakling?' _Irene had pounced on her and delivered a punch, but Sonya was more than inclined to let it go. _"I like it when my students have spunk," _she said. Needless to say Sonya was a close family friend, or else her mother would not have let the teacher storm into their house and rough her daughter up, would she?

Irene shifted her feet as her teacher came close, indecision momentarily overtaking her, and the student paid for it by suffering another kick in the stomach. Even though they were protected by guards, being hit by a speeding foot is no walk in the park. The impact would still travel to your abdomen. If the kick was hard enough, the victim could be winded. Irene took two steps diagonally backwards, trying to escape the onslaught of her teacher's attack, but it was in vain. Somehow Sonya managed to land another kick in her side.

'Come on, Irene! What the bloody hell are you doing?' Sonya shouted as she chased her student relentlessly all over the mat. 'You're a human opponent, not a damned training dummy!'

Irene gritted her teeth as best she could through her mouth guard, and sped forward to launch an attack on her teacher. The first kick missed, but the second managed to hit the target.

'I trained you to be a fighter, Irene! Not a princess! HARDER!'

Irene felt herself getting more frustrated, but she forced it down as much as she could before she closed in on her teacher again. She only managed to land the first surprise blow, before Sonya threw a slamming kick over, forcing Irene to backpedal again. The two figures maintained the distance between them for awhile, eyes never leaving each other, before Irene started forward to attack again. But midway, a figure outside the dojang's tinted windows caught her attention. She squinted, roughly making out a slim figure through the glass before she found herself lying on her back, looking up at the ceiling of the room. Her head throbbed where Sonya had hammered with her foot. Her eyes were out of focus.

'Damn it, Irene!' Sonya hurriedly knelt beside her, assisting her student's painful efforts to sit up again. She unclasped the head guard's straps and pulled it off the traumatised head. Holding Irene's head in her hands, she tilted it up so the woman could look at her. 'Focus on me, we've been through this before.'

The younger of the two struggled to focus her eyes, fighting through the haze in her head. But as Sonya had said, she had been through this many times before, and she managed to bring her vision back together faster than normal. Then she tried to remember what she was doing before she got hit. _Someone by the window... _Irene recalled slowly. _Someone... Flora. Flora! _She snapped her head towards the window, causing another bout of dizziness, and she caught sight of the one who caused her current state. Pulling her face out of her teacher's grasp, she hastily struggled onto her feet, only to fall to the side. Sonya quickly reached forward and supported the unstable student, preventing her from collapsing back onto the mats.

'What are you doing? You're still unstable.' She grasped Irene's arm again as the silver-haired student tried moving away from her. 'Irene, what the-,'

The silver-haired woman stubbornly walked towards the door, stumbling a little but she managed to keep herself upright. She looked out of the window again, and the figure slunk away out of sight. 'No, wait!' Irene ran for the door.

'Who's that?' Sonya asked before her student shouldered the door open and went off in pursuit.

'Flora!' Irene called after the figure as it turned into a corner. The blonde hair was enough to tell Irene it was indeed her. 'Flora, wait!' She ran after her. Reaching the corner, she found the girl standing in front of her, clutching a file to her chest. Irene shook her head lightly to try and clear her double-vision, her hand clutching to the edge of the wall for support. 'Flora...'

'I'm sorry!' The blonde apologised, guilt apparent in her voice. 'I shouldn't have... It's my fault-,'

'No, no. It's not your fault. It's mine. I got distracted.' Irene fought against the nausea rising from the forced movements she pushed her body to take. Now was not a good time to empty her stomach on the floor. She swallowed, trying to rehydrate her parched throat, but it was too dry and ended up causing an empty retch. It felt like there were small spikes inside, poking her.

'Are you all right? Do you need to sit down?' Flora moved closer, a hand hovering in front of her as if wanting to support the senior.

Sit. That sounded like a very good idea at the moment, so Irene did just that, and sank to the floor with her back against the wall. Flora moved closer and knelt down beside the athlete.

'Are you feeling unwell? Your lips look quite pale...' Flora asked concernedly, eyes wide.

Irene gave a weak smile. 'I'm fine. It's normal. I just... pushed myself, that's all.' She swallowed more carefully this time, preventing another unwelcome retch. Deep breaths helped to calm her heart down.

'I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to get you hurt like that.'

'Don't apologise, Flora.' The sitting student stopped the girl. 'It was not your fault. And you've apologised every time we've had a proper conversation.' Irene leant her head back, taking one final deep breath before looking back at the girl. 'Why were you outside our training hall?'

Inexplicably, a faint blush tinged the blonde's cheeks as she looked down. 'Um... I... I was looking for you. So I thought you would be at your training hall...'

'I see. And why were you looking for me?'

'I...' Her eyes were on Irene's knee. 'I just... wanted to talk to you. About... about that night.' She bit her lip as she brought her eyes up to meet Irene's.

'Oh. Don't worry. I've not told anyone about what we've said that time.' Irene assured the junior.

'No, it's not that. I...' Flora looked like she was weighing her choice of words. Then she looked at Irene straight in the eyes. 'I trust you.' She continued staring at the twin shades of blue, as though waiting for confirmation, which Irene gladly gave in the form of a nod. She scrutinised Irene for awhile more, before she seemed to be satisfied and continued. 'I just wanted to talk... If you don't mind.' She added hastily. 'I mean, it's up to you. I'm just, I just wanted to ask if-,'

'I don't mind. I'm always open.' Irene interjected.

Flora stared at her, before looking down again, fingering her file.

'Flora.' The senior said softly, drawing the other's attention back to her. 'Is it about what you told me that night?'

The girl nodded.

'Would you like to talk now? Today?'

'No, not today. I don't want to trouble you when you're tired. Especially after I...' She glanced at where Irene's head was hit.

Irene smiled again. 'It's not your fault, Flora. We've been through this already.'

The blonde bit her lip, her face still obviously showing guilt.

'So, where would you like to meet? Outside school?'

Flora nodded. 'Preferably. If that's okay for you.' She looked at Irene questioningly.

'That's fine. When would you like? Is the weekend fine? There will be less time constraints.'

Another nod. 'I think we can arrange the location later... I don't want to hold you back from training.'

'It's all right.' As Flora made to stand, Irene reached out to grasp her hand. The younger blinked and looked uncomprehendingly at her senior. 'Flora. Thank you...'

'Huh?'

'Thank you for trusting me.' She told the blonde sincerely.

Irene fancied that, before Flora let go of her hand, the other's grip tightened slightly in her hold.

_**-Wind Flower-**_

Irene stood outside the airport's arrival hall with a small bag of cookies in her hand, waiting to receive her mother. She reached into the bag to take out another cookie as her eyes went over to the double doors separating the area she was in from the luggage belts. She checked her watch, roughly guessing how much longer she would have to wait. Munching on her snack, Irene went over to an empty seat and sat down.

It was Thursday, 1.30pm. When her mother had found out Irene did not have classes the day she was coming back, she immediately booked her daughter as her chauffer. Not that the "booking" was necessary. Irene always took time off to pick her mother up and spend time with her, especially after a long period of being apart. Once she even skipped class to fetch her mother and got a scolding as a reward, but not in the middle of the airport, obviously. Irene's mother was strict, especially towards her daughter's upbringing. But when Irene turned 19, she loosened the reins considerably to give the child more freedom. _"You didn't screw up when you reached 18, and managed to maintain it for another year. I think that's reason enough to trust you. You've matured, anyway. And you have a much lower chance of getting pregnant than most girls." _Her mother had burst out laughing after delivering her last sentence, breaking the serious atmosphere, and Irene smiled as she recalled that memory. Her mother. Sometimes Irene wondered where her own exuberant streak was, and reasoned that it was probably balanced out by her father's quiet trait. _More like overshadowed than balanced…_ She shook her head to herself, picking out another cookie from the packet. Just as she placed it into her mouth, the display on the wall caught her attention.

_Incoming flight, Paris-Sutare, AirFrance: Arrived_

Irene stood, stuffing the rest of the cookie into her mouth, and walked over to the metal barricade in front of the double glass doors to wait. There was a mass of people walking over to, or already waiting at, the luggage belt to collect their belongings. But Irene could not catch sight of her mother. _She's probably at another belt, _Irene thought as she brought yet another treat into her mouth, chewing slowly as she kept her eyes peeled. It was not until twenty minutes later that she spotted her parent.

Valencia Lancett, aged 51, walked with confident poise and practiced elegance through the doors. Her dark reddish-brown hair fell in waves to her shoulders, resting on skin that was as light as Irene's. Irene vaguely wondered how her mother managed to keep her hair so neat after a twelve-hour flight. She seemed to be totally at ease moving with the bulk she carried along with her. One hand was pulling a large luggage behind her; on the opposite shoulder was her hand-carry bag. Finishing the assemblage was the cello strapped to her back. Her eyes scanned the crowd behind the barricade, but only for a short moment. Her daughter was not difficult to find, not in the least. Irene's silver hair might as well have been blazing neon lights as far as Valencia was concerned.

The silver-haired woman smiled, and rounded the barricade so her mother would not have to walk too far to reach her. She dusted off remnants of crumbs from her hands, then spread her arms to wrap Valencia in a hug. The older woman gave her daughter a peck on the cheek, before handing over the luggage she was pulling. Irene accepted it without complaint.

'Welcome back.'

'Thank you, dear.' Valencia quickly rubbed off the lipstick she accidentally left on her daughter's face, before making her way over to the nearby seats with Irene in tow. 'Now, I just need to check my cello first.'

'Hm? Did something happen to it?

'As a matter of fact, yes.' Valencia said irritably as she set her bag and cello case on the seats. 'Those damned idiots behave no better than primitive apes.' She opened the instrument's case. 'The way they handled my precious…' She lifted the cello, holding it by the fingerboard and resting the bottom in the case. 'The way it banged on the side of the x-ray machine…' The cellist shook her head in frustration, fingers and eyes running all over her instrument checking for damage. She looked up at her daughter momentarily with an unbelieving gaze. 'Can you believe that an idiot actually called my cello a bloody _guitar?_' She lifted the cello slightly, as if to emphasis her point. 'A _guitar! _How in the world does one confuse between a cello and a guitar?' Valencia huffed as she finished her inspection and gently placed her "precious" back into the case. 'At least there's not a scratch. So they've saved themselves a lawsuit.' The musician strapped the cello back on.

'Not everyone is as refined as you, mom.' Irene said in amusement with a little roll of the eyes.

'Very true.' Valencia patronised her daughter's sarcasm. 'In fact, why can't you be more like your mother?'

'Haha, mom. Haha.' Irene replied mirthlessly.

'Ooh. Famous Amos.' The older woman reached out and relieved her daughter of her snack. She placed a small cookie in her mouth and chewed, while scanning Irene from head to toe. 'Why is it that you love sweet snacks but you never grow your backside out?'

'I exercise, mom. I don't sit on my ass with an instrument all day.' She dodged her mother's flying hand. 'That, and I have high metabolism.' Irene drew out the car keys as they neared their vehicle and pressed a button attached to unlock its doors.

'You have your father to thank for that, then.' Valencia followed her daughter to the back of the car as the younger woman opened the boot. Irene secured her mother's cello first, making sure it would not get thrown about in the compartment during the journey. Then she put in the luggage, slammed the boot closed and slipped into the driver's seat.

'Where would you like to go?' Irene asked as she started up the engine.

'Let's go to the diner near our place.' Valencia leaned back in her seat. 'Oh, and I bought the Kinect thing for our Xbox. Should keep me awake until night.' A seasoned traveller, the cellist's way to battling jet lag was to force her body to recognise the local time, only letting it rest when night comes.

'It'll only make you more tired, you know.' Irene informed her as she turned out of the carpark.

'Good. That means I'll have a good night's sleep then.'

'No. That means you'll go into a coma 'til the next afternoon.'

'Tsk. My daughter. The comedian.' Valencia gave a yawn. 'I got more than enough sleep on the plane. It's fine. And you will play with me later.' She adjusted the air-conditioning. 'So, did anything interesting happen while I was gone? Probably nothing, looking at you.'

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><p>The first step into a woman's heart is to win over her pet. Haha.<p>

Was the interaction between Flora and Irene too quick? Too slow? Too easy? Tell me, please. I'll edit if necessary.

Thanks for the reviews again. And for reading my story.


	4. Where Are We Exactly?

Inquire, and thou shalt acquire! I've included two to three more characters here. Heheh...

This is just a little peek into the inner workings of our two protagonists' minds. I apologise if this is... dreary.

Oh well. Hope you enjoy this! And happy new year!

**Extra: **Oh, and I don't think arranged marriages are typical in Korea, per se. These marriages can be found all around the world, not only in Asian countries, and not as commonly practiced as before. Though, to the extent of my limited knowledge, I believe that arranged marriages are more commonly practiced in the Asian region, like India, for example. So yeah. Flora is an unlucky one to suffer this.

* * *

><p><em>Flowers are surely waiting for us<em>

_In a place we haven't yet seen_

_Even if it's the end of the world_

_Even if people say in laughter that we are trying in vain_

_Let's go together_

_Because nothing is so fearful as giving up_

_- Pride, Ayumi Hamasaki_

**Chapter 4: Where Are We… Exactly?**

Irene sat in the grandstand, fingers tapping deliberately away at her laptop, working her way through an essay assigned by the professor earlier in the week. It was Friday afternoon, 2pm. She had spent most of the previous night doing ridiculous poses and actions in front of the television with her mother. Amazingly Valencia managed to hold out until late into the night, before collapsing onto her bed exhausted. As Irene had predicted, her mother fell into a mini-coma until she woke up around noon. When Irene returned home to deposit the older woman's lunch, Valencia had walked into the living room with disheveled hair and the beginnings of dark rings around her eyes. She ignored her daughter's raised brow and landed heavily onto the couch. Irene placed the Subway meal on the table in front of her mother, then left for the campus. There was training at 4pm, a light one to let them relax after an entire week of grueling physical punishment. So here Irene was, in the grandstand typing out her assignment, waiting for training to start, with a half-eaten sub and Starbucks' mocha frappucino for company. Dully, the student recognized the same cycle that her life had taken on for the past few weeks. Wake up, go for classes, training, night runs, go home and collapse on the bed. Repeat the next day. At least there was the weekend to break up the monotony. The competition was only next week, and Irene could not wait to get it over with. Sure, she loved her sport, but then again if you go at it one time too many, it may lose its appeal. No matter how much you loved ice cream cake, if you had it for every meal, there will come a time where you get sick of it, right?

_Right. Definitely. _Irene thought to herself as she finished typing a sentence. She reached out to take her cup of coffee, but her hand passed through thin air. She frowned, turning her head to look at the seat where she had placed her beverage, and found that it was missing. _Huh? _She turned towards the back, but did not see anyone. She looked behind the seat, in case the cup had fallen onto the floor, but did not find anything. _What? _Irene turned to look at her other side, and her nose brushed against another.

'What the f-!' Irene jumped, jerking her face back from the nose-to-nose contact she had with the other person. Her sudden movement made her laptop slide off her lap, but she managed to catch it before it crashed onto the floor. Holding onto the expensive gadget, she took a better look at the damned person who almost caused its demise. The golden blonde hair and clear blue eyes were way too familiar. Irene gave a quick smack on the back of the person's head.

'Ow!'

'The hell were you doing, Galatea!'

The blonde in question just gave a nonchalant shrug, a playful smirk on her lips, and brought the cup of frappucino in her hand up to drink.

'And that's _my _coffee.' Irene reached out to snatch the cup back, but Galatea was already sucking up the caffeine-rich drink through the straw. And by the look she was giving her senior, it did not seem like Irene would be getting her coffee back anytime soon.

Straightening up, Galatea swung an unimaginably long leg over the back of the seat that was next to Irene, and climbed over into the row of chairs the athlete was sitting in. Once she was settled comfortably in her seat, the Year 1 looked at the silver-haired senior and found that she was still being glared at. Galatea gave a small laugh and swung an arm over Irene's shoulders, patting her.

'You have to loosen up sometime, woman. You'll die an early death with lots of wrinkles on your face if you continue being so grumpy. It won't be a very sightly funeral.'

Seeing how Irene's stare was not letting up, Galatea decided to back off. For now, anyway. She withdrew her hand, raising it in a "surrender" gesture. But she kept Irene's coffee in her hand and continued drinking it.

The slim woman gave the blonde one last withering look before shaking her head and taking up her sub to take a bite. _Damn woman. _She thought to herself. Galatea had been in the same high school as Irene and the clique, one year below them. Before getting to know her, Irene had seen the tall blonde walking around the school often, and she thought the junior looked arrogant, though not very irritatingly so. The younger girl walked with an air of someone who was sure of herself, and did not seem to give a damn as to what others thought of her. It was not until July in Irene's second year in high school, which was also Galatea's first, that they got to know each other.

It was a Wednesday evening, and Irene had rushed to retrieve her phone back from a classroom in which she had absentmindedly left it in. It was under the desk next to the window, and when Irene slipped the phone into her bag, she looked out of the window glass and noticed a small group of people at the back of the classroom block. It was not difficult to see from the third floor that a group of four was tussling with a remarkably tall blonde. She had watched as the blonde kicked the stomach of another girl, but then suffered a hit in the back by a guy from the group of four. The last thing Irene saw was the blonde trying to maneuver so that she would not get cornered, before the silver-haired student rushed down the stairs to offer aid to the one who was outnumbered. When Irene reached the group, the tall female had her attention occupied by two girls and a guy, fending off blows, while the remaining male was sneaking up behind her with a wooden pole clutched in his hands, his eyes trained on the blonde's head. The guy with the pole noticed the intruder at the last minute, but before he could react, a kick at the back of his knee made him kneel onto the ground. While his attention was momentarily off, the pole was snatched out of his hands. He tried to stand up but got winded by the pole slamming into his abdomen for his efforts. The rest who were fighting got distracted, including Galatea, who then suffered a sudden punch to her face. The tall blonde fell backwards onto the soft grass, and Irene swiftly moved forward to act as a human shield. Even with her martial art background and the wooden pole, Irene was not trained in dealing with more than one or two people at once. She was able to fend off and land blows on the two weaker females but suffered a few attacks by the males. Galatea had quickly shrugged off the pain of the punch she suffered and threw herself into the fray again. The fight was confusing, to say the least. Irene lost track of what she was doing, swinging the pole and her legs at the four students while taking care not to accidentally hit her new comrade. She did not know how long it went on for, but the tussle was eventually stopped by a teacher who passed by. All six of them got slapped with detention and corrective service for the school, but hey. Irene gained a new friend for all her troubles. She sported a cut on her jaw and a split lip. As she lightly caressed the bruise on her cheekbone, she observed Galatea's equally beat-up face. Their friendship had officially started with matching grins from the both of them.

Galatea, still slurping on Irene's mocha blend, reached into her bag and withdrew a sleek, dark blue portable hard drive. She handed it over to her senior, who took it.

'I've already transferred all the shows you wanted.' The blonde said, pointing her thumb at the device. 'But I don't have Downtown Abbey.' She looked at Irene's raised brow. 'What?'

'How can you not have Downtown Abbey?' The senior waved the hard drive around lightly. 'How can you not have a show with Dame Maggie Smith in it? How?'

'But I already gave you Sister Act.' Galatea pointed at the rectangular gadget. 'She's in it.'

'But Downtown Abbey! Are you sure you don't have it?' Irene fixed the junior with an accusing gaze.

'Calm down, woman. Gosh. No. But you can buy the DVD yourself, you penny-pinching miser.'

Irene rolled her eyes lightly, but did not bother to reply. She put the hard drive into her bag, then reached over to take her coffee back. Ignoring the Galatea's eye squint, she sipped her drink and placed it back onto the seat she had originally left it in.

'Thanks anyway.' Irene conceded to Galatea, who shrugged.

'It's nothing, really. But you owe me lunch.'

'Hmph.' The senior decided to change the subject. 'So? Did you stay back just to give me this?' Irene asked the junior, her finger sliding on the laptop's mousepad, saving her work and closing the Word document.

'No. You're not special enough.'

'Oh?' Irene patronized her. 'I see. So is there anything "special" keeping you back today?'

Galatea just raised a brow, and nodded her head towards the field in front of the grandstand. Irene turned to look, and the answer was right in front of her eyes.

'Ah.'

The school's track club was currently on the green grass field, warming up for their training. As they reached the end of their stretches, the students then stepped onto the track and started running laps. Irene did not have to wait long to spot the one Galatea was waiting for. The redhead, whose hair was bordering on an orange shade, pulled ahead of her club in no time at all and became the lone figure in front of the other runners on the track. Only a little more than five months in the university, and she had already earned a nickname for herself. "Phantom" Miria, they called her, after her ability to conquer sprints with her sheer speed. Some said they did not even see her move. One moment she was at the start, then she was at the finishing line, as if she was leaving behind a mirage at the starting point. _Exaggeration_, Irene mused silently, _is always a big part of gossip and rumours_. But she did not doubt the redhead's ability, having seen her speed through a 100 metre race like it was nothing.

The spiky ponytail bounced lightly behind the runner, as Miria made a pass by the grandstand, finishing her first lap and starting the second. Galatea wore a proud and indulgent smile.

'She's amazing, isn't she?' The blonde said, her eyes fixated on Miria. 'The way she runs, it's like no one can catch up to her.'

Irene let her remain in her reverie for awhile, before breaking in. 'So you are just going to sit here and watch your girlfriend run back and forth until the training's over?'

'Well… I brought my lecture notes to read. But…' Galatea smirked playfully. 'I'd much rather look at her sweaty body-,'

Irene rolled her eyes again and held up her hand, stopping Galatea from continuing. 'Enough. I don't think I want to know any more.'

'What? I think it's sexy.'

Irene did not answer her and just finished her sandwich. She crumpled the paper packaging in her hands and held it. The two of them sat in silence, watching the track club as they went through physical training under the hot sun. Irene felt grateful that her own trainings took place in a room, and an air-conditioned one, no less. Even though it had the drawback of the smell of perspiration in the enclosed area. As the track athletes started doing lunges, Galatea opened her mouth again.

'Oh, there's a concert held by Pelmers High School this Sunday. It's to raise funds for Queenridge Hospital's patients who are barely able to afford their treatment. Do you want to go?'

'Huh. I don't think I'll be able to go.' Irene was meeting Flora on Sunday.

'Excuses, excuses.' Galatea clucked disapprovingly. 'Don't you have a heart? The ticket's only 10 dollars each. It's more than affordable for someone like you.'

'I'm meeting someone else on Sunday. I can't go.'

'Then bring that someone along.'

'No.'

'Teresa's going along with Clare.'

'No.'

'Come on. Your meeting can't take up the whole day, right?'

'No.'

'Irene.'

'You're only so insistent because you're attached to that hospital for your course.' Irene shot at the junior. Galatea was taking a medical course in Claymore University, and her batch was attached to Queenridge Hospital for hands-on courses and internship.

'Yeah, well. But I'm not going to take credit for the people I manage to convince into going for the concert. I'm just doing this out of the goodness in my heart.' She laid a hand over her heart and gave Irene a self-satisfied expression. Then she started singing. 'Never mind I'll find, someone like you… I wish nothing but the best, for you… too…'

Irene sighed, then bent down and fished out her wallet. Withdrawing a ten dollar note, she handed it over to Galatea. 'I am not a heartless person.' She said as she pressed the note into the junior's hand. 'Even though I'm also doing this to shut you up.'

Galatea chuckled. 'Ah. At least you have a tiny bit of conscience and kindness.' She wagged the paper note in front of her senior's face. 'Thanks then. On behalf of the people who will benefit from your kind donation.'

'Did you ask Miria to go?' Irene asked casually.

'Of course.' Galatea caught the athlete's drift. 'But there's no way I'm going to make this a date, Irene.' The blonde said with a small sigh. 'Not with Helen and gang tagging along. It's not very romantic that way.'

'What foresight.' Irene commented as she shut down her laptop, then placed it on the seat to let it cool before she put it in her bag.

'It's my gift, foresight.' Galatea tilted her head to the side, frowning slightly as if remembering something. 'Come to think of it, Flora said she couldn't go because she's meeting someone else on Sunday as well…' The blonde gave Irene a shrewd look. 'Are you two going on a date?' She nudged the senior.

Irene blinked, and hurriedly pushed the offending elbow back. Her pulse started growing quicker, but then she calmed herself down. There was no way Galatea could know Irene was meeting Flora on Sunday, right? After all, Irene did not tell anyone of her plans. 'What are you talking about? Of course not.'

The junior nodded patronizingly, her smile plainly telling that she did not take in any of what Irene said. 'Right… Remind me again. Who was the one who bandaged Flora's hand?'

Irene blinked again. _What the hell? _She frowned at Galatea, who was still smiling openly at her. 'How did you know?'

'Well… Miria told Flora to come to me, to get her hand checked. So Flora came. I asked her who helped her bandage her fingers, and she told me it was _Irene._' Galatea practically sang her name out.

'That doesn't mean anything.' Irene countered. 'I would have bandaged another person's hand if he or she was similarly injured.'

'Oh…' Judging from Galatea's tone, the junior was not going to back down. In fact, it sounded like she was closing in on a helpless prey. 'So I assume that you saving her from those jocks was something you'd do for another person, right?'

Irene maintained her poker face. 'Yes. Like how I saved you from getting your ass kicked in high school.' She hoped reminding Galatea of the incident would make the woman back off. No such luck.

'Oh…' Galatea repeated. 'So… I guess chasing after someone outside your training hall to talk to her, then holding her hand afterwards is something you'd do to someone else too?' Her clear blue eyes practically shone with victory.

The athlete paused a moment in silent surprise. 'How did you know that?'

The blonde shrugged yet again. 'Well… I was one floor above you. Then while I was walking I heard someone call Flora's name. So I took a look and saw you.' Her smile widened.

'You saw… everything?' Irene asked hollowly.

'Yes.' Galatea confirmed. 'And even from that distance, my dear Irene, I can tell you have the hots for her.' She added cheekily, and almost burst out laughing when a faint tinge of pink finally graced the senior's cheeks. Rarely had she been able to verbally corner Irene, much less see her blush.

Irene clenched her jaw lightly, eyes locked onto Galatea's, as she thought of how to maneuver through this conversation. She knew denying her encounter with Flora would be stupid. Should she deny her feelings for Flora as well? She did not plan to let anyone know of what was going on, not so early anyway. Not even Teresa knew, her suspicion notwithstanding. But… there was no harm in telling Galatea, who already witnessed for herself what happened on that day, right? But just because she held Flora's hand does not mean she must necessarily like her. Many straight girls held hands too, because they were friends. Irene grabbed onto that escape route. The senior was just about to voice her counter-argument, but the junior cut her off.

'And don't try to tell me straight girls hold hands too.'

_What? _Irene eyed Galatea warily. _Is she a psychic?_

Galatea continued, as if unaware that she had just shot down Irene's unspoken rebuttal. 'Come on, I've never seen straight girls look at their friends the way you looked at Flora.'

'But you were too far away to properly judge my expressions.' Irene tried to tell her, but the blonde seemed intent on finishing what she wanted to say.

'_And…_ the way you held her hand was far more intimate than-,'

'It was not intimate.' Irene muttered.

'Fine. The way you held her hand effectively shot the "friendship" boundary to hell. Think about it,' She rattled on, taking full advantage of Irene's silence. 'You've known Teresa since high school, haven't you? Have you ever held her hand like that before?'

Irene quietly sifted through her memories, but could not recall anything. She reluctantly shook her head. Galatea paused, scrutinizing Irene's still form.

'Is there a problem, Irene?' Her tone changed, less aggressive and softer than before.

_A problem? _Irene ran the phrase over in her mind. No, there was not really a problem, per se… But on that night, after the incident with Flora, Irene had lain on her bed, thinking over her situation endlessly. The meeting on Sunday, it definitely is _not _a date. A talk about Flora's family matters is definitely not what she would have on a proper date and a first date, at that. It would be… awkward. What really bothered her was what Flora said. _"I trust you." _At first, at that moment, Irene felt happy. Happy that her person of interest was willing to put trust in her. But the more she thought about it, the more the happiness dissipated. Why would Flora trust her, given the fact that they had not communicated much before that incident? Irene felt the beginnings of fear and nervousness. How should she handle this trust? She had approached a troubled woman. What if she made a mistake? What if she could not carry the burden? She would hurt Flora… she would jeopardize their relationship… Irene had smothered herself with her pillow that night, but right there in the grandstand under the scrutiny of Galatea, she did not move a muscle. Then she decided. After all, Galatea was reliable.

'I'm not sure if… I'm moving too fast.' Irene started slowly, making sure to run every word through her mind carefully. 'I'm worried that I'm taking advantage of her.'

'Hm?' Galatea frowned, and raised a brow at the same time. 'Moving fast is not synonymous with "taking advantage", you know.' She nodded towards the track, where Miria was dominating the sprint exercises. 'I moved rather fast with Miria too, aside from the fact that she accepted my feelings only a month later.'

'But you've gotten together quite a few times before you confessed, right? And Miria had time to think over it.' Galatea slowly nodded, having an inkling of where this conversation was going. 'I've never really gotten the chance to communicate with Flora more. I… I barely know her.' Irene ran a hand through her hair, frustrated. 'I don't even know where this is going.'

'Irene, do you like her?'

Irene blinked. She stared at Galatea for awhile, before finally opening her mouth. 'Yes. Yes, I like her.' This was the first time Irene had ever admitted aloud her interest in Flora, and it felt as if she was more… liberated. She repeated herself, a little louder. 'I like Flora.' It felt as if she was gradually lifting an invisible boulder that had somehow settled on her heart without her noticing. Slowly, she understood. She understood what Galatea was trying to do. She looked into the other woman's eyes, and saw satisfaction in the light blue orbs.

'Yes. You like her. So you've admitted it yourself.' The beginnings of a smile showed on the blonde's lips. 'So now, answer this. Do you want to get together with her? As lovers?'

_As lovers? _Irene realized she had never considered or envisioned herself with Flora together in that way before. She had just been blindly walking around the girl, only recognizing her superficial needs to comfort the delicate blonde. She never searched for the root cause of those needs. 'Yes…' Irene said carefully. 'I… want to be together with her. But,' Irene cut Galatea off when she saw the junior part her lips. 'I don't think I want to think of us as… lovers yet. We're still quite unfamiliar with each other, after all.'

The medical student smiled, wider this time. 'But you already said. You like her. You want to be together with her. That's all you need for now.' She settled back into her seat, crossing her arms. 'At first, when I approached Miria, I thought I was too fast as well. But…' The woman shrugged casually. 'I figured, if I like her, I might as well tell her now. Better now than regret it later when someone else gets her. As for the familiarity issue…' She fixed Irene with a steady gaze. 'Isn't that what dates are for? You go out together, find out whether the other person likes you, whether the two of you get along. Dates don't necessarily push you into a romantic relationship automatically, right?'

Irene leant back in her seat, Galatea's words sinking into her. Part of Irene marveled at the younger woman's words of wisdom. It was amazing how the blonde, who normally looked indifferent about what was going on, could guide Irene through her emotional jumble so well. But then again, she had gone through the same thing as well, more or less. So it was a given that she would understand the situation more. The silver-haired student closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them again slowly.

'But this Sunday's meeting is not a date.' Irene clarified. 'We just want to meet up and… talk.'

'I see. Well, it's also important you don't jump too far ahead. After all, she is going through some family issues, or something along those lines, right?' Galatea continued to explain at Irene's raised brows. 'Miria told me. Flora started acting distant about two or three weeks ago. She only told Miria she had some "family matters". Other than that, I'm just as clueless as Miria.' She fixed Irene with a shrewd gaze again. 'Is that what you're going to talk about on Sunday? Her family issues?'

'Yes.' Irene admitted with slight hesitation.

Galatea raised a brow. 'Well… she must really trust you then.'

Irene blinked yet again.

'If she's willing to tell you, whom she met only…?' She gave Irene a questioning look, leaving her to fill in the blank.

'A month ago.' Irene supplied.

'Someone whom she met only a month ago.' Galatea cocked her head. 'If she's willing to tell you, but not the friend she has had since young, then she must trust you a lot.'

Uncertainty crept inside her again. 'Would you trust me too? If you were in her position?'

The junior frowned at her. 'Don't ask me that. I'm not her. But if I had to say, then yes. You look like the trustworthy, reliable sort. With your wooden face and all.'

Irene rolled her eyes, but other than that, did not give a reply. Does it really matter, why Flora trusts her so quickly? What matters now is to prove that she is worthy of that trust, right? She sighed. Sometimes Irene wished she was like Teresa, who had no romantic attachments at all. _Oh god, Teresa… I've told Galatea but not her… _Irene pinched the bridge of her nose.

'Oh yeah…' Galatea started, drawing Irene's attention. 'Come to think of it, I've seen Roxanne around the school lately. You know, the senior who got jailed for assaulting someone while she was drunk?'

Irene tilted her head. 'Of course I know her.' Roxanne was a Year 3 when Irene was just a Year 1. She was a notorious figure around the university. She had a reputation for bringing down top students, making their performance fall drastically, but no one knew how. She stuck around the smart people of her class, then after a period of time, the grades of these people would start slipping. But what was strange, was that after their standards have fallen, Roxanne would suddenly demonstrate the same abilities that her victims had and take their position, moving higher up in academic ranking. She did the same to students from clubs too. Elizabeth, the fencing club's former vice-president, was known for her beautiful, yet effective, sword technique. After Roxanne joined the club and hung around her, she suffered a losing streak in matches, while Roxanne herself started using Elizabeth's technique flawlessly. After Irene and Teresa had won their respective competitions, Roxanne had approached both of them, but the pair managed to shake her off. The only person who seemed to be able to withstand Roxanne "Of Love and Hate" was Cassandra, who was the first in their batch in terms of overall academic performance. Some people said that they were in a relationship, but no one could confirm that. Last year in late August, Roxanne was jailed for assaulting someone into unconsciousness at a bar she was drinking at, then taking her victim's car to try and knock down innocent passers-by.

'She was in the papers, Galatea. Roxanne's a psycho, and I'm surprised they haven't put her in a strait jacket yet.'

'Yeah, well. I heard that she was trying to get back into this university to finish her studies.'

'They'd better not let her in. If they do, you'd better protect your Miria more closely.'

Galatea raised her brows. 'I heard she leeches other people's talents.'

'Somehow, she does. But I think it would be a little difficult emulating Miria's speed. _But _some people say she's a witch, so if Roxanne gets in… it's up to you.'

The blond junior shrugged. 'Let's see, shall we?' She checked her phone. 'Hey… What time's your training?'

'4.'

'It's 4.20 now.'

'What! Shit!' Irene jerked out of her chair, stuffing her belongings into her bag. She almost started running off, but stopped. She looked at Galatea squarely in the eyes. 'Galatea. Don't tell anyone what we've talked about today, all right?'

The medical student's eyes widened slightly. 'I won't.'

'Good.' Irene thrust her cup of coffee into the other woman's hands. 'This is yours now.'

'Thanks.'

As she sprinted away, Irene turned her head back. 'So I don't owe you lunch anymore!'

'Hey!'

_**-Wind Flower-**_

'Hello… Miss Flora Chevalier?'

Flora turned around expectantly. She had been waiting for Miss Jenkins for a little over fifteen minutes now, and was relieved to be finally freed from standing around aimlessly outside the staff room.

'Yes, Miss Jenkins.'

The music teacher smiled. 'I apologise for making you wait. Mr. Howard went a little off tangent in his briefing.'

'Oh, no. It's all right. I'm not busy anyway.' The student replied politely

The teacher's smile widened, and she held up the music scores held in her hand. 'I've already entered your scores into the competition. One for the piano and one for the violin, right?'

Flora nodded in the affirmative. 'Yes. Thank you.'

'Ah.' Jenkins waved a hand dismissively. 'It's no biggie. By the way, I've gone through your arrangements, and honestly, I am impressed.' The older woman scanned through the scores appraisingly. 'The way you move through the entire piece is very smooth. The composition is rather… unique. It feels familiar, yet unfamiliar at the same time.' Jenkins nodded to herself, then handed the student's work back. 'You have your own flair for music, Flora. I hope to see more and even better work from you throughout your time here.'

Clutching the papers, Flora returned her teacher's smile. 'Thank you, Miss Jenkins. I will do my best.'

Jenkins patted the student's arm. 'That's good to know. Now, I have to clear the mountains of work off my desk.' She made for the staff room. 'See you next week then, Flora.'

Flora watched as the door swung behind the teacher's back, then made her way up to the second floor. She looked at her music scores, imagining yet again how the pieces would sound when played. To be honest, Flora had quite a hard time arranging these pieces, what with her… family troubles. At first she wanted to compose something upbeat, cheerful in a bid to lighten her own mood, but it did not work. Then she slowly gave in, pouring what she was feeling into the notes she slowly drew between the lines. The pieces she came up with ended up sounding melancholy, but it also managed to act as an outlet for her feelings. Come to think of it, Flora felt lucky that the teacher did not pick up anything strange negative vibes from her student's work. The musician sighed, as she reached the minor music room and pushed the door open.

The lights were turned on, as well as the air-conditioning, and there was someone was playing the saxophone in the room. It felt as if an invisible hand had wrapped around Flora's heart with a light grip, when she recognized the other musician. Veronica. The brunette, whose hair was tied back in a ponytail, looked up and saw Flora. She stopped playing her instrument, lips slowly parting from the mouthpiece.

'Hi.' Veronica started tentatively.

'Hi.' Flora replied, unsure of what else to say in the awkward silence that ensued. They stood there for awhile, with Flora shuffling lightly on her feet before she broke the uncomfortable quiet.

'Um… you look like you're busy. So I think I'll…' She made a weak gesture towards the door and reached her hand out to grasp the handle, but Veronica cut in.

'No, I was just practicing.' She held up her saxophone. 'Did you come in to practice too? I don't mind.'

In fact, Flora did come in to play the piano, but Veronica's presence made her hesitate. Things have become awkward and uneasy between them ever since Flora broke up with her the day before their graduation from high school. The both of them knew they have been drifting away from each other for quite awhile, and Flora herself understood that their relationship was going nowhere. Even though Veronica had been a great confidant and always stood by her, Flora recognized that she was… losing touch with her girlfriend. To put it bluntly, her romantic feelings for Veronica had diminished. Not wanting to hold the other back, the blonde ended their relationship. What made it difficult was that Flora knew Veronica still cared for her, even now. That knowledge made her feel guilty whenever she saw the brunette. So to stay in the same room with her may be a little… distracting.

_But avoiding each other all the time is not the solution… _Flora told herself, as she returned her ex-girlfriend's gaze. Veronica always looked so sincere, she observed. The blonde gave in, and smiled at her fellow coursemate.

'Yes. Thanks.'

'No problem.' Veronica mirrored the smile.

Flora sat at the piano, depositing the bag next to her seat and placed her scores in front of her. Veronica made her way over as the blonde took out the music sheets on which she had composed several pieces casually on her own.

'Have you submitted your competition entries yet?' Veronica asked.

'Yes. Miss Jenkins just did it for me. What about you?'

The brunette gave a small pout and shrugged. 'I haven't. Still having trouble ending my arrangements. I think I'll submit it next week. Are those your entries?' She pointed at Flora's music scores.

'Only two of them.' Flora riffled through the small stack of papers, and extracted her competition sheets, handing them to Veronica, who raised a brow quizzically at the remaining stack of paper.

'What about the rest?'

'Oh. They're just my own. I made them when I had the time.'

Veronica nodded approvingly. 'Hardworking,' she commented as she looked through Flora's competition pieces. 'These look good, though they sound quite… downtrodden.' Her lips quirked thoughtfully. 'Could you play them out for me? Maybe it could give me some inspiration.'

'Okay… I'll play the piano one.' Flora put the piano score in front of her and placed her fingers over the keys. Veronica remained standing, leaning slightly on the grand piano. Part of Flora could not dismiss the fact that she felt uneasy with the brunette's eyes on her. Her gaze almost had the same vibes as Irene's. _Irene…_ Flora closed her eyes and raised her hands, forcing herself to push other thoughts out of her mind until she was done with this. Then she lowered her fingers onto the piano keys and started. Flora was determined not to let Veronica's presence deter her from playing well. After all, to normalize your relationship, you have to get used to the fact that your ex was now your friend, a friend you are comfortable with, right? _Right… But fix a broken mirror and you can still see the cracks in it. _Flora thought in the back of her mind, letting her fingers go through the piece she had already familiarized herself with. When she finally ended, Veronica nodded again.

'Seems well done.' Veronica smiled at the pianist. 'It pulls the listener into the mood of the music.'

Flora stiffened slightly as the brunette leant down, so that they were closer to each other.

'Is this a reflection of your own emotions?' Veronica asked in a careful undertone.

The blonde pressed her lips together, not meeting the other's eyes.

'You've been keeping to yourself a lot recently, Flora. Is there anything wrong?' The brunette gently probed, but to no avail.

'No. I'm fine. I just felt… strained for the past few weeks.' Flora, under the pretext of wanting to play another piece, arranged her stack of music scores, placing a random piece at the front.

'Flora.' Veronica drew the other's attention. 'If there's something bothering you, you can talk to me. I'm open.'

The sincerity in her voice almost made Flora's heart break. Almost. Guilt welled up inside her, but she was determined not to let any of that show. Her offer was the same as Irene's. The offer to be with her. But she accepted Irene's concern, not Veronica's. She had accepted the concern of someone she had only just met, but not the one who stuck with her throughout high school. It felt wrong, but at the same time, it felt right. It's not normal to confide in someone whom you have broken up with, right? Both of them had been hurt… Veronica more so than Flora. But to continue accepting her care now, when she was not over their relationship yet, would only add to her ambiguous position in this relationship.

'I'm fine, Veronica. I can cope on my own.' Her words came out a little curter than she had intended, and Flora winced inwardly, regretting it. Her regret was only made worse by the flitting expression of pain on Veronica's face before she hid it. The brunette withdrew.

'I see.' Her voice sounded level, albeit a little stiff. 'Well then… Take care of yourself.' Veronica cradled her saxophone in both hands. 'I think… I'll pop over to the main room and pick up a few scores.' The brunette went over to pick up her bag, then strode to the door, where she paused.

'Bye.'

'Bye.' Flora replied softly, just enough for Veronica to hear.

The saxophonist's eyes lingered on the pianist for awhile, before stepping out of the room. Flora watched her walk out, and tears formed unexpectedly in her eyes. The blonde gritted her teeth, holding back the tears from falling down her cheeks. She placed her hands on the piano for support.

_Please… let me know what I'm doing._

* * *

><p>Enlightened Latea. Hm.<p>

Silly me, I've forgotten to thank my silent supporters! Thank you! Receiving notifications for story alerts are very satisfying.

Please review, comment, criticise, flame, etc! What you give, I will take!


	5. Opening Up

This chapter is, I admit, a little rushed. But I wanted to get this out of my system before I go on a short hiatus. Explanation below, if you want it.

Again, thank you for the reviews, they give me great insight and encouragement. Story Alerts and Favourites, too. Thank you very much.

* * *

><p><em>I look into your eyes, and feel it coming through<em>

_I can't help but want you more than I want to_

_So baby, take all of your fears_

_And cast them all on me_

'_Cause all I ever wanted was just to make you see_

_That I could be the one to give you_

_All that you've been searching for_

_- Anytime, Kelly Clarkson_

**Chapter 5: Opening Up**

She stared into the mirror, gazing unblinkingly at her own reflection and feeling her mildly accelerated heartbeat. She had been sitting here, at her dressing table for quite awhile now. For how long exactly, she did not know. But she was aware of the growing apprehension that had been bubbling inside her ever since she opened her eyes that morning. She did not understand why she still felt anxious about the upcoming meeting, even after Galatea had shed light on the path she treads. No, actually. She _did _understand. Even if you knew where you wanted to go, even if you could see the road stretched out in front of you, there is still no telling what might go wrong. The light you have only helps to allay some of your fears, but it cannot prevent the unpleasant from happening. The light cannot do anything if the road makes a sharp turn and you misstep into the nearby ditch. Illumination cannot help you if the wooden bridge breaks beneath your feet and you fall into the ravine below. God, she was nervous, perhaps even scared, of what was coming up. For one fleeting moment she even vaguely wished that she had not set this meeting up with Flora. She was not used to this, for goodness' sake. She'd had friends who suddenly broke down in front of her, and the best thing she ever did was pat their backs awkwardly before someone else came to her rescue.

_So why? Why are you doing this to yourself? _Irene mentally questioned herself, running a hand down her face, trying to clear her thoughts. _No. Stop this. Stop thinking too much. She just wants to talk. What you have to do is listen. Listen. _She looked at her reflection again through her fingers, lowering her hand slowly. _Just go there and do your best… and now I sound like I'm prepping myself for competition. _She thought wryly, sighing softly. Irene held up her watch, and saw that it was 12.25pm. They had agreed to meet outside the park at 1.30, so she had about forty-five minutes before she needed to head out. But she was already dressed, despite the amount of time she had, because she could not really settle her heart down on doing something. She had played Final Fantasy XIII on the Xbox earlier in the morning, but she did not enjoy her time. After her mother walked in and gave her comments about "Bubblegum Barbie", who incidentally was the game's main character Lightning, Irene handed over the controller and retreated into her room. She turned her computer on and logged onto Facebook, something that she did not do that often, partly because the social network sounded like an irritating, clingy girlfriend with its "here are the activities you've missed" emails.

Once in, she typed into the search bar: "Flora". Then she paused, realizing that she did not even know the last name of the person she likes. _Another clear indication that we know each other too well, _Irene thought ruefully. But she hit "enter" anyway, and scrolled through the list of people before she finally found the profile picture of the blonde. So her name was Flora Chevalier. That's nice. Irene clicked on the profile and was brought to her wall, which was locked. Her eyes were drawn to Flora's display picture, and she found it difficult to look away. Flora was playing the violin, at some kind of performance with a band, which Irene assumed was her high school's music club. It looked as if she was playing solo, judging from how she was the only one standing while the others sat, but it was difficult to see from the cropped photo. Her self-expression while on the violin was as impressive as when she was on the piano, it seemed. She looked thoroughly immersed in playing her instrument. The way the light played across her features…

'Irene!'

Valencia's call from the living room shook Irene out of her daydream. The image of Flora faded slowly away from her mind as she brought herself back to the present. She glanced at her watch again. 12.35pm. She had spaced out for ten minutes. She had sat here, lost in her thoughts for ten whole minutes. That usually did not happen to-

'IRENE!' Her mother's voice came louder this time.

'What?' The daughter called back.

'Come here!'

Irene frowned in mild annoyance. Did all parents do this? Call their child's name, refuse to tell them why and wait for them to walk over. The silver-haired woman slipped on her watch, pushed her phone and wallet into her pockets, picked up her sweater and made her way over to the empress. The house's sovereign was seated on the sofa, game controller in her hands and frowning at the television screen. Irene took a double take at the screen. Her mother was playing Final Fantasy XIII. She furiously tapped on the controller's buttons, as if it would make her characters attack harder.

'Go easy on the controller, mom. You're not playing Whack-A-Mole.' Irene crossed her arms, looking in slight amusement as her mother struggled to fight a monster.

'Help me do this!' Valencia held the white device out to her daughter, who took it and sat next to her. 'Your Bubblegum Barbie is so much weaker than she looks.' The older woman watched as Irene tapped in a chain of commands.

'She's not weak, mom. You just don't know how to play this.' Irene defended the fictional character, as she won the virtual skirmish.

'Hmph.' Her mother yanked the controller back from the younger's hands, then looked at her daughter's attire. 'You're going out?'

'Yes.' Irene gathered her sweater in her arms, hugging the soft bundle and leant back.

'What time?'

'I'm going out at 1.15.'

'Teresa?'

'No.'

'Oh. Then who? Sophia? Noel? Sonya?'

'No, no and no.'

'Are you even going out with someone else?' Valencia frowned, as she fiddled with the controller's analog sticks.

'Yes.' Irene replied slowly, slighting drawing out the vowel.

'Then who is it?' Her mother continued twiddling with the controller, then suddenly paused the game. She turned to fix Irene with an intense gaze. 'Are you going out with someone I don't know?'

Irene winced inwardly, and tried to stall for time. '"Going out" as in…?'

'As in "going out on a date". Did you meet someone new?'

'No, it's not a date…' Irene said carefully. 'But it is someone you don't know.'

'Guy or girl?'

Irene's lips twitched. 'Girl.'

'Is she pretty?'

The daughter raised a thin eyebrow at her mother. 'And why would you want know?'

'If you're going after her then she must be good looking.'

The child sighed in resignation. 'She is.'

'Then you're going after her.'

'No.' Irene did not bother to cover herself in front of her parent. What's wrong with telling her mother anyway? 'Not yet.'

'Ah… I see. That's good. So it won't become another Rachel thing.'

'Mom.' Irene said curtly, making the warning in her tone apparent. Rachel was the one she had the physical relationship with.

Valencia pursed her lips, keeping whatever she wanted to say to herself. She had disapproved strongly of Irene's… thing with Rachel. After all, not many parents would like their child to have an almost-purely sexual relationship with someone else, one that had minimal emotional depth. Irene knew it was unhealthy, even back when she was still in that relationship, but she was stupid enough to let it continue for a prolonged period of time. Though Irene had been the one to end it, Valencia still brought the matter up once in a while. Irene wished she would stop harping on it.

'Rachel was a mistake.' The younger admitted.

'Damn right she was.' Valencia agreed, indignation clear in her voice.

'And it's time to let it go.' Irene hinted all too unsubtly.

'Fine. But I'll bring it up again if you become as dumb as last time.'

Irene resisted the urge to roll her eyes. 'This one's completely different from Rachel, mom. If that helps. Besides…' The daughter added. 'I want to move carefully with her.'

'Does she have a name?'

'I'll tell you after I come back.'

'What's wrong with telling me now?'

'Because if things don't go through, I don't want you to go glowering at her if you two ever meet.' Valencia had glared daggers at Irene's first ex-girlfriend when they passed each other on the streets. It was embarrassing, to say the least, even though she knew her mother did that out of parental love.

_Protective parental love_, Irene rephrased mentally.

'Whatever. I don't even know what she looks like anyway.'

'She's beautiful.'

'So she's a crush.' Valencia finally smiled at her daughter, looking over the younger girl again. 'Are you going to disarm her with your carefree attire, Miss Casual?'

Irene glanced down at her clothes. Dark blue jeans, light grey tee, white sweater with a hood. 'Is it too casual?'

Valencia cocked her head at her daughter. 'Since today is not a date, I assume your top priority is not to charm her, right?'

'Yes…'

'Then it's fine.' The older woman seemed to think over it for a moment. 'Yeah, I guess it's fine. You can even try winning her over with a pair of flip-flops. Project your non-existent happy-go-lucky personality.'

Her mother. Sometimes she laid sarcasm on so thick over her words that Irene needed a chainsaw to cut through it and find out what she was really trying to say.

'What is it, mom? Was that a yes or no?' Her chainsaw: bluntness.

'Yes, yes. Happy?' Her mother conceded. 'At least you're wearing proper clothes. People in your generation really lack dress sense. I've seen a college student walk into a café in her pyjamas. Her pyjamas! Gosh, does she own the place? I think not.' She brought up the controller and continued the game.

Irene checked the time. 'I think I should go now.' She stood. 'And I think you should change a game to play.' She added in her two-cents' worth after seeing her mother tap at the buttons angrily again.

'It's your Bubblegum Barbie's fault.' Valencia retorted, but did as her daughter suggested, slipping another disc into the console as she heard the door shut.

_**-Wind Flower-**_

Flora ran her fingers through her blonde locks, as she took one last look in the mirror to make sure there were no stray strands sticking out. She felt nervous, to say the least. But this was she wanted, right? Hell, she was the one who looked for Irene to arrange this meeting in the first place, although she couldn't shake off the feeling that this was impulsive. How long has it been since she had met the senior? Only a month. It took only four weeks for Flora to trust her, but she did not exactly know why. Sure, she thought Irene looks reliable, but at the end of the day, this was rather… superficial. It was like walking with your eyes closed and trusting that the road ahead would be smooth and straight.

She clenched her jaw lightly, and pushed her doubts down. Picking up her purse, making sure what she needs is with her, Flora made her way to the front door. A part of Flora was grateful that she had someone to spend the day with. She did not look forward to spending the day in her empty home alone. She could have gone out with Miria, but the runner was attending the concert today, and she did not want to take up the woman's time unnecessarily. Since Irene had already agreed to meet her, she might as well enjoy the senior's company. In fact she felt like she wanted to talk to her more. Even though she had not told Irene that much on Friday, Flora still felt happy. Happy that someone would willingly sit down to listen to her. It was a luxury that she had not been able to enjoy recently. It was something she was reluctant to indulge in even when she was still with Veronica.

The blonde felt a tinge of guilt as she slipped on her shoes. Guilty for moving on too fast. But guilt aside, Flora also wanted to move on. Clinging onto a dead relationship would only hold you back. She only hoped Veronica would see it that way soon enough. Sighing softly, she reached for the door handle, but the ringing and vibration of her hand phone caught her attention. Flora extracted the phone from her purse and checked who was calling. Her expression darkened when she saw the name. Seo Yun Hee. Her mother. Flora clenched her jaw again, and accepted the call, bringing the phone to her ear. She did not bother to say anything, not even a greeting. As per the norm, her mother returned the favour and just jumped straight into what she wanted to say.

'I will be going to Sutare the second week of next month.' Yun Hee's voice was emotionless, tone clipped.

'Why are you telling me this?' Flora replied equally shortly.

'I'll be staying at your house.'

'What? Why? You are perfectly able to get a hotel by yourself.' The frustration welled up immediately inside her.

'I'm not as rich as your father, girl. Living in your house will be less expensive.'

'What do you take me for? Your servant? And this is not your house. You can't come and go as you like.' Flora controlled her voice, only letting a slight amount of anger colour her voice.

'Don't get shirty with me, you brat. I'm your mother. And it's a given for a child to take care of her parent.' Her mother had switched to speaking in Korean in her growing anger.

'Like how you took care of me?' The blonde spat back in her mother tongue. She hated it. She hated how her mother expected her to perform her duties as a child, when the older woman herself did not fulfill her duties as a mother. Flora could almost feel the silent fury from her mother over the phone.

'I will be going over to your house, whether you like it or not. So prepare.' Yun Hee shot back, still in her native tongue, and hung up the phone.

Flora clutched her phone tightly, her eyes glaring at the innocent wall in front of her. She threw the phone back into her purse and took several deep breaths, trying to calm herself down. _She is a waste of energy to get angry over, _Flora told herself. _Relax. _She placed a hand on the wall, steadying herself. She could not present herself in front of Irene all keyed up. The thought of silver-haired woman helped to calm her down even more. At least there was someone to provide a listening ear. Flora straightened her back, and pushed the door open.

Then she felt the involuntary beginnings of a small smile, at the prospect of meeting the senior.

_**-Wind Flower-**_

Irene walked self-consciously beside Flora, matching the other's pace and making sure she did not walk too far in front or behind. She kept her free hand in the front pocket of her sweater, so that it would not swing awkwardly by her side or fidget. In the other was a takeaway Japanese bento. The pair decided that they did not want to get cooped up in a diner and wanted a more private area. So here they were, walking to the same clearing at the park's hill they had been in last week, with packed lunches in their hands.

The slightly taller woman glanced at the junior. When the blonde had arrived after Irene waited for awhile, her face looked a little tight, but then she smiled and seemed to be rather easy-going, alleviating Irene's tension. Irene only hoped that she could make this relaxed atmosphere stay for the rest of the day, but she knew it would dissipate when they started… talking. She was worried that she could not comfort the younger woman properly. What if she said something wrong?

_Oh, don't start again. _Irene shook her head lightly, as if the motion would help shake off her growing uncertainty as well. Then she caught herself, realizing that Flora had noticed the movement and was looking at her. She met the blonde's eyes.

'Are you alright?' Flora asked, brows slightly raised.

'Ah, no-I mean, yes. I'm fine. That was just… nothing.' Irene finished lamely, resisting the urge to fold into herself and hide her face. Her own awkwardness was killing her slowly. 'So… you don't have anything else on today?'

Flora shook her head. 'No.' Then she tilted her head. 'Well actually, there's a concert later in the evening. But I told Galatea I couldn't go.'

'Oh, the one by Pelmers' High School. I told her I couldn't too…' Irene hesitated. 'And she kind of figured out that we're meeting today.' She observed the blonde closely for any negative response, but nothing showed, except for a look of amusement and a shrug.

'I see. Well, there's nothing wrong with us meeting today, is there?' The junior tilted her head again. 'But… I hope she would not start any… rumours.'

'No, she won't.' Irene assured her, catching onto her drift. 'I made her promise to keep her mouth shut. Besides, she's reliable. She would have kept quiet even without me telling her to.'

'She told me you are friends.' Flora said as they entered the park. 'So you seem to have-,' The younger woman got cut off as she hurriedly sidestepped to avoid colliding into a teenage boy on his bicycle. She moved in Irene's direction, her side pressing slightly into the senior's. Irene's hand came up automatically to grasp Flora's bare wrist, to give support in case the other was off-balance. The pair watched the cyclist as he turned back.

'Sorry, miss!' He called back, before he turned his eyes back in front and swiftly swerved to avoid colliding into another person, who yelled obscenities at the careless male.

Irene frowned at the cyclist's back until she lost sight of it. _How reckless. I would have yelled at him too-, _she paused her thoughts when she found Flora staring at her again. The silver-haired woman blinked uncomprehendingly, before she realized she still had a firm grip on the younger's wrist. A light blush rose to her cheeks.

'Oh.' The athlete released the hand quickly. 'I'm sorry.' She stuffed her own hand into her sweater's pocket again. Then she looked up to find the other woman smiling.

'It's okay.' Flora fixed Irene with a bemused and curious gaze as they started walking towards their destination again. The senior, thought the blonde, was interesting. Usually, when Flora saw her around the campus, she had an impassive expression on her face, making her feel unapproachable. But whenever she got to talk to the senior face-to-face, Irene seemed to be different from the image she projected. Instead of getting curt responses from a taciturn woman, what she got was earnest words from a warm friend. To be honest, Flora did not like opening up to others so quickly… Veronica took a few months to get close to her. Miria was an exception, but it is not surprising, considering the fact that they met when they were just children, when they still did not understand or even know guile. Miria had been in France with her family because her father was working there. They had found they liked playing each other, thus starting their friendship from young. Irene took only a month, and Flora was inclined to trust her. Why exactly, she did not know. It was like a gut feeling, a sixth sense that told her Irene was reliable. She only hoped she was right.

'Here we are.' Irene said, breaking through Flora's inner musings. She looked at the blonde, spotting the slightly glazed look in her eyes. She cocked her head questioningly, and got another smile in response. _Don't think I'll ever get tired of her smiles…_ She returned it with a small one of her own, before settling down onto the bench they have reached. Irene took the bento out of its package and opened it, fragrance immediately wafting out of the box. Her stomach suddenly felt empty and cried out for food, but she stopped herself and glanced over at Flora. It was rude to start before your companion, was it not? The blonde had bought a sort of fried noodles with egg. Looking at it now, the portion looked smaller than her bento, but it did look inviting. Irene looked back down at her food, then back at Flora's again. She could not help but feel like a glutton with her bigger serving…

The junior felt the silver-haired senior's gaze, and looked at her. The senior blinked, and then turned her eyes on her own food, quickly picking up the plastic spoon and digging into her rice. She sneaked a peek at her partner and saw that the girl was already starting on her food, so she dug in. As she brought a spoonful of food into her mouth, she reflected dully at how awkwardly she had been acting around Flora recently. She had never been so self-conscious before, not even when she had accompanied her mother to formal functions, though it was true that she had not bothered much about trying to impress the dolled-up, pretentious people there. She had just smiled and nodded at appropriate times during conversations with dressed up men and giggly women, wondering in the back of her mind when she would be able to leave the place.

Irene swallowed the food in her mouth, and spoke to break the short silence that had fallen over them. 'So… has anything much happened?'

Flora shrugged. 'Not much, really. It has not really been that long since we last spoke, has it?' She gave another smile to her mesmerized one-man audience.

'Ah, right. Of course. But one day is enough time for a lot of things to happen, after all.' Irene replied, thinking over her impromptu, almost-philosophical sentence. 'I suppose that's how a person's day gets totally screwed up.'

The blonde looked at her thoughtfully, a poignant smile graced her lips. 'I guess so, now that you put it that way.' Flora twirled a small bunch of noodles on her fork. 'But sometimes all it takes is for one incident to turn your day upside down.'

Memories of the day when she had received the news of her father's death rose to the surface, as if triggered by Flora's words. 'That's true.' Irene said softly. She played around with the salmon in her bento a little, before delivering a piece into her mouth. 'So I'll assume that there were no such incidents recently?'

'Well…' Flora fiddled with her fork. 'My mother called this morning.'

'Oh. Did it turn your day upside down?'

The blonde raised her brows slightly at her senior. 'Not really. Do I look very upset?'

Irene made a small show of scrutinizing Flora's face closely. 'Right now, I don't think so. But you did look a little… troubled when you just arrived. What did she say?'

'She's coming to Sutare next month.' Flora did not seem to try and withhold information. After all, the point of the meeting today is to talk, right? 'And she wants to live in my house.' She stabbed at her noodles lightly, bringing up more food to eat.

'You don't want her to stay with you?' Irene asked, while half-heartedly scooping up a piece of teriyaki chicken.

Flora shook her head.

'Then why don't you tell her to live somewhere else? Like a hotel, or something.'

'I told her to, but she refused to listen. She doesn't want to use the money.' She stabbed at her noodles with more force. 'If she lives with me, she can cut back on her expenses.'

'You don't like her?'

'I don't.' The blonde replied shortly.

'Do you mind if I asked why?' Irene prodded carefully. She did not want to cross the line. But her worries seemed unfounded when Flora smiled softly at her.

'No, I don't. I did ask you out to talk to you, didn't I?'

'Yes, you did.' Irene mirrored the smile. 'But I don't want to pressure you into telling me what you don't feel comfortable telling.'

'It's okay. But I don't want to burden you either.'

'It won't be a burden.' Irene assured the girl. 'If it helps, I don't mind. I won't tell anyone.'

Flora examined Irene again. She sighed. 'I'm not close to my parents, but…' She pondered over her words. 'If I had to choose one over the other, I would pick my father.'

'Why?'

'At least he gives me financial support. If that's a good enough replacement for what he never gave me in terms of love and attention.' Flora pushed her noodles around the disposable plate. 'He's the one who pays for my education and gives me monthly allowances. He's also the one who helped me buy my house here, along with the furniture and piano.' She sighed again. 'Even though I think he does it just because I'm his daughter.'

'What about your mother?'

'Nothing.' The junior sounded slightly bitter. 'She did nothing for me, except look after me when I was a child. Although I won't say that her call turned my day upside down. I'm already used to it.' She looked over at Irene. 'So… I guess our session has already started, huh?'

'Yes, looks like it.' Irene gestured with her spoon. 'Do you want to carry on?'

Flora nodded. 'Well… They're coming over so that they can finalize their divorce with me around. I'm still their child legally, after all.' Her plate was on the seat next to her with the food unfinished, as if she had lost her appetite. 'Seems like I'm going to lose a family I never really had in the first place.' Her fingers started playing with one another.

Irene did not know what to say, so she just kept quiet and listened.

'I don't even know why I'm so upset, actually. It's not like the divorce is going to change how I live. I mean, I've moved here for high school. I've lived apart from them for some time... I don't feel like I'm attached to them, but...' She trailed off, biting her lip, staring at her entwined fingers.

'Flora,' Irene began gently. 'No matter how they've treated you, they're still your family, right? It's normal for you to feel upset over their split.'

'But... they've already been living apart for some time, even while I was still in France. The two of them only got together whenever my father had events or functions to attend with his family. Even when we were together, we barely spoke to one another.' Flora traced her fingertips with a thumb; her eyes never looked up at Irene once throughout the time she spoke. 'We've communicated so little. I've not seen them for a few years. I... I'm not even attached to them, for goodness' sake.' Flora repeated exasperatedly. 'It's not going to change the way I live very much. It's just a legal process. So why am I still so... so...' Her voice faded, as if she could not find a word to fit.

Just like the night they had met here, Irene slowly placed a hand gently over Flora's. 'Flora.' The older woman said gently, drawing the other's attention. 'I've already said. They're your family, whether you want it or not.' She looked into Flora's eyes, searching. 'You're their daughter. It's only natural for you to want them to stay together, whether legally or not.'

'But...' Flora tried to protest, but she could not get her words out.

'Flora,' Irene held the gentle hands a little tighter, hoping that her next words would not offend or rub the girl the wrong way. 'You want them to show more care for you, don't you? You want them to treat and love you like a daughter. Any child would want an unbroken family. But the fact that they are getting a divorce soon...' She held Flora's gaze steadily. 'It means that,' Irene phrased her words as best she could. 'You will have a lower chance of getting what you want, won't you?'

The blonde stared at her, eyes slightly widened. Then she frowned and turned away, her hair falling so that it covered her face. Irene thought she saw moisture the other's eyes and her stomach twisted. 'Flora, I'm sorry.' The senior tried to salvage the situation. 'It was just a guess of my own. It does not necessarily mean-,' Irene stopped.

_Oh god. No. No! _Irene panicked when she heard a small sniff from the blonde. _Damn it! _Irene placed another hand gingerly on her shoulder. 'Flora, that-I was just... it was just a guess. I don't-I didn't mean to-,' Irene fought the urge to slap herself. 'It doesn't necessarily-,' She stopped when she saw the blonde shake her head.

Flora slipped one hand out of Irene's grasp to reach up and wipe her eyes. 'No,' she whispered. 'I think what you said is right.' She swallowed. 'I'm sorry.' She glanced at Irene quickly and saw the worried and guilty look on the senior's face. She tried to smile, but failed. 'I shouldn't have... I'm so silly.' The junior sniffed again, trying to clear her blocked nose.

Irene's stomach knotted. _I knew I'm not made for this kind of things... _She thought, angry at herself. She removed her hand from Flora's shoulder, and made to lift her other hand off the girl's, but the blonde caught it. Irene's heart stopped as the girl held her hand tightly.

'Don't... don't leave. Please.' The girl pleaded softly. Her voice sounded like it was about to crack. 'I'm not going to cry. I'm sorry.'

The silver-haired woman stared into the wet green irises, almost scared to speak any more, knowing that she was the one who had pushed the girl into this state. But it would not do for her to keep quiet. She did come here to be with Flora, didn't she? She did come here to listen to her troubles. 'I'm not going to leave.' She assured the girl gently. 'I never even thought of leaving.' She reciprocated the hold, gently holding onto the slim hand. 'I'll be here as long as you need me.'

Flora bit her lip, her gaze dropped. 'I'm sorry...'

'Flora, it's all right. Do whatever you want. If you want to cry, just do it. Don't hold it back.'

But the junior just shook her head.

'If someone has to be sorry, it's me. I shouldn't have been so direct about what I said.'

Again, the girl shook her head. 'No. What you said... I think...' She swallowed, and spoke in a stronger voice. 'I think I _do _want an unbroken family. I want my parents to be there for me.' Her hand twitched in Irene's hold. 'But as you've already said, there's already a lesser chance of that happening...'

'I shouldn't have.'

'No. Please, Irene. Don't try to hide anything from me. I need someone to... help me.'

'Okay. I'll be here.'

Flora nodded, accepting the senior's words. 'I'm sorry for troubling you like that.'

'No, it's no trouble. I want to be here.'

The musician gazed into the athlete's eyes, scrutinising her, and nodded again. 'You're right... when you said I want my family together again.' Her lips twitched. 'There were many times when I tried imagining us as a proper family. I've tried imagining myself having a totally different family. But...' She shrugged resignedly. 'I know it's just a dream. But whenever I see other families out together at the mall eating or shopping, I think about how I'm alone. How I never spent time with my parents like that before.' She pursed her lips, taking slow, calming breaths. After a few times, she looked up Irene again and gave a small smile. 'I know I can't do much about their split, so I'll just... get over it, I suppose.'

'Try not to let it trouble you too much. They're not going to sign the papers until a month later, right?' Irene took the girl's nod as affirmation. 'Then don't worry about it too much now. See where this goes, and then decided what you want to do.'

Flora smiled, nodding yet again.

'Oh,' Irene remembered something else. 'What about the marriage you were talking about?'

The musician shook her head. 'I don't know any more about it. My mother never brought it up to me after the first few times...' She sighed. 'But I hope she did not do anything funny without my notice. I really don't want to get married to that man.'

Irene smiled involuntarily. 'Well, we'll tackle that problem when it comes.' _Wait. I said "we". Oh... did she notice?_ But she did not get an answer, as Flora acted as if she had missed the implications of the use of that pronoun. In fact, the girl kept quiet for awhile, thinking to herself.

The athlete's gaze drifted as she waited for a response. Her eyes went over Flora's again, admiring her delicate features. It was a little strange, when she thought of what the soft-demeanoured girl had been through. One would have thought a gentle, well-refined girl to have been brought up by parents who watched over her upbringing closely, strictly monitoring her behaviour. Well, maybe Flora had been brought up with a close monitoring of her behaviour, but if she had, then it would have been in a much less loving way. Her heart ached softly as she thought of the blonde's situation. Sure, having parents getting divorced is quite a common phenomenon nowadays, but... it was not what children should suffer through. _Especially not someone one like Flora,_ Irene thought to herself. _She deserves better..._ Flora's hand shifted a little in Irene's hand, and it reminded the senior that she was still holding it. She felt the soft skin under hers, enjoying the warmth of the other. Her fingers were long and slim, fitting for a pianist. Her eyes fell onto the hand. She experimentally stroked the knuckles with her thumb, relishing the smoothness of the skin. She smiled softly, then she suddenly remembered. This was the hand she had bandaged.

'Ah, you've removed the bandage?' Irene asked, bring Flora out of her thoughts.

The blonde blinked. 'Yes, it's fine now.' She slipped her hand out from Irene's grasp, much to the silver-haired woman's dismay, and flexed the fingers. 'It was a minor injury, Galatea told me. And it stopped hurting quite quickly, so I took it off.' She smiled at the senior. 'Galatea said it was bandaged very well.'

'Oh. I see.' Irene felt heat gathering around her neck. 'Well, I've done it a few times before...'

Flora cocked her head. 'You're going to have your competition next week, right? On Saturday?'

'Yes.'

'I think I should be coming. Quite a lot of the Year 1s are planning to go.' Her smile widened. 'You know, to see the national champion in action.' She chuckled lightly at Irene's faint blush.

'Well... I-um,' Irene stammered. 'It's quite boring, actually. Just people kicking at each other...' She felt her blush darkening under Flora's amused gaze.

'Good luck, in advance.' The blonde said sincerely. 'It shouldn't be that much of a challenge for you?'

'Uh, but there may be someone more talented than me this year... I mean... I'm not saying I'm talented but...' Irene paused, not knowing what to say.

'You always blush when you get complimented.' Flora stated, adding to Irene's said blush.

'No, I don't.'

'Yes, you do.'

Irene gave a short glare and turned away, scratching at her cheek and casting her mind around for anything to change the subject.

'Forget my competition; don't you have any upcoming ones?'

'Well... it's not a club competition... just an individual music composition that anyone can join...'

That night, Irene sent Flora home. They had chatted until evening, when they decided to have dinner together again. Irene had called back home to inform her mother, to which the parent replied, "I thought it wasn't a date!", at which the daughter immediately clarified that it was not, said goodbye and hung up. The senior accompanied the junior to her apartment building, looking up to scrutinise the block of homes.

'So, which level do you live on?'

'The 9th. It's the topmost floor.'

'Hm. Well, this place looks rather nice. Good money spent.'

Flora gave a casual shrug. 'So... I'll see you soon, I suppose?' She looked at Irene inquiringly.

The taller woman nodded and smiled.

'Well... Bye then.' The blonde started to walk into the building.

'Flora.' Irene spoke out, stopping the younger woman, but she was not exactly sure what she wanted to say. 'Um... we... will we go out again, like today?'

Flora smiled shyly. 'If you don't mind... having to listen to me again.' She replied unsurely.

'I don't mind.' Irene returned her smile. 'Call me, when you want to come out again.'

'Okay.' Flora assented, turning back towards the building again. 'Well then... bye.'

'Bye.'

Irene watched Flora walk in until she was obscured by the door before she strode away, with a small smile on her face.

* * *

><p>Sometimes I wonder how Flora's hand really feels. Must feel nice to the touch.<p>

Anyway, I've landed myself a job that has monster working hours that leaves me with not much time for myself, not to mention writing. Very sorry about that. But it's only for two weeks. So. I'll be gone for fourteen days, then I'll be back looking over this chapter again and writing new ones.

Soo... please still review/comment/criticise/flame, 'cause I'm sure I have the time to read them! By the way, I don't mind long reviews. Long or short, they make me happy. Haha. (Sounded a little wrong, but. You know what I mean.)


	6. Memory Lane

*sheepish grin* Erm... Hi. Hehehs...

Sorry for the obviously-longer-than-2-weeks hiatus. First it was work, then I went overseas, then I got... Skyrim.

Anyway, I'm not moving the story forward in this chapter. These are just little snippets that I've written seperately throughout my self-proclaim-and-extended break, and I just decided to string them together and put them up. Hope you won't mind. So, here goes.

**Add: **Oh, and I would like to thank Ann and Kuroui for reviewing every one of my chapters. I really appreciate it.

* * *

><p><em>Despair stares out from tube trains at itself<em>

_running on the platform for the closing door. Everyone_

_you meet is telling wordless barefaced truths_

_Sometimes the crowd yields one you put a name to,_

_snapping fiction into fact. Mostly your lover passes_

_in the rain and does not know you when you speak._

_- I Remember Me, Carol Ann Duffy_

**Chapter 6: Memory Lane**

Tired of lying on her mattress doing nothing, Flora slid from under her covers and jumped lightly onto the floor. She had her hand on the doorknob, before she remembered something and turned back towards the bed again. The light brown teddy bear was still lying under the covers with its head on a pillow, Flora having tucked it in for her nap. The girl sniffled a little, trying to clear her blocked nose as she grasped the teddy bear by its arm and pulled it towards her, enveloping it in a hug against her chest. She slid off the bed again and went out of her room, looking for something to do, something to help while away her time. The master bedroom, which was her parents', had its door open. Peering inside, Flora found that it was empty, so she continued walking down the hallway. The study room's door was closed. That must mean her father was inside working, so she left it alone. Stepping into the living room, Flora coughed a few times and became aware that her throat felt very dry and was sore again. She made her way into the kitchen to get a cup of water. Standing on tiptoes to reach the glasses placed on the counter, she heard the door to the room off to the side of the kitchen open. Flora turned to look, and found her mother standing at the door. The adult looked surprised to find the four-year-old in the kitchen, then she frowned.

'What are you doing, Flora?' She approached the child, who was standing properly on her feet again.

'I want some water,' Flora said in a rasping voice, then coughed a few more times, followed by a sniff.

'If you wanted water, you could have asked for it.' Her mother said mildly irritably, as she reached over to pick out a glass and poured water into it. 'I don't want you to go breaking anything.'

'But I can do it!' The child retorted indignantly. Why did her mother think she could not do anything by herself? 'I know how to do things, mommy.'

'Fine.' The Korean woman handed the child the glass carefully. 'But I want you back in bed when you finish drinking.'

'But I can't sleep!' Flora whined. 'It's boring. I want to watch TV.'

'You're supposed to rest, Flora. You have flu. You have to rest more to recover quickly.'

'But tomorrow is Sunday! There's a lot of time to rest!' The young blonde pouted.

The mother's frown deepened, and she gave an irritable huff. 'Do what you want. But you are going to school on Monday, whether you are sick or not, understood?'

Flora gulped down a mouthful of water and nodded, grinning. Her mother did not reciprocate her wide smile, merely staring back at her daughter, lips pursed. The blonde felt her grin slipping as she looked back up at her mother's stern demeanour.

'Now get out of the kitchen.' Her mother finally said, turning back to the room again. 'Don't play with anything here, lest you hurt yourself. If you want to play go look for your father. I have to do the laundry.' With a final glance at the blond child, the woman closed the door.

Flora continued to stare at the door a little longer, but then shrugged to herself, not making much of her mother's distant disposition. Clutching her teddy bear closer and taking another gulp of water from her glass, she went into the living room. She placed the glass on the table first, before proceeding to sit her teddy bear carefully in the middle of the sofa. She made sure the fluffy bear was sitting comfortably upright before going to turn the television on.

About half an hour of cartoons, with her glass of water finally empty, the child was bored yet again. Despite the fact that she was sick and had just taken her medication just two hours ago, she was feeling rather energetic. Probably because she had practically slept her way through the whole of the day before. Gathering her precious stuffed toy in her arms again, Flora slid off the sofa and turned the television off. Mommy did tell her to play with her father, didn't she? So that was what the child decided on, approaching the study room. Turning the doorknob, Flora pushed the door open to find her father standing by the window, talking on his cell phone. He did not take notice of his daughter entering the room. Flora quietly sneaked behind her father, then tugged on his pants.

The man gave a start, turning around quickly, but immediately calmed down when he sighted the child. He held up a palm, gesturing to Flora that she should wait, before returning his attention back to his phone. The girl climbed onto her father's chair, playing with her toy to entertain herself as the man laughed with someone on the other end of the line.

'Of course, how could I have not thought of that! If you hadn't pointed it out, I wouldn't have guessed…'

Flora was using a finger to tap on her father's keyboard aimlessly when he finished. Pierre Chevalier placed his phone casually on the desk, then, holding her daughter by her armpits, lifted her playfully high, eliciting a delighted squeal and giggle from the girl. He quickly took a seat on his chair, then settled his daughter on his lap.

'Why are you in here, mon petit?' He asked, ruffling his daughter's hair lightly. 'You should be resting, not running around when you're sick.'

'I'm bored, papa.' Flora complained. 'I don't feel like sleeping.'

Pierre smiled. 'Really? Is that why you're in here? Do you want to do my work?'

The younger blonde brightened. 'I can?' She held up her stuffed toy. 'Can Teddy work too?'

A burst of laughter issued from her father's lips. 'Ah… but I don't have any work left over for you today. Maybe next time.'

Flora pouted the second time for the day. 'But you always don't have any work for me.'

'You don't have to work, Flora.' Pierre stroked his daughter's head gently. 'Not yet for a long time anyway.'

The girl continued to pout. 'Then can you play with me, papa? I haven't finished my puzzle yet. We can do it together!'

'Ah, I'm sorry, Flora. But…' Pierre lifted his daughter up and placed her on the floor, where she stood looking disappointed. 'Papa has to finish up some work, okay? Go play with mommy, or you can just play by yourself.'

'But you just said you don't have any work…'

'Not for you, Flora.' Pierre held his daughter's hand and led her out of the study room, back into the hallway. 'But for me, there is.' He knelt down. 'Now, go look for mommy to play.'

'But mommy never plays with me.'

'Maybe she'll play with you now.'

'Mommy's washing clothes.'

'I see. So that means you will have to play with Teddy for now, then.' The blond man patted the stuffed toy on the head, then stood up, taking his daughter's hand in his again.

Flora followed, disheartened, as she was led back into her room and placed onto her bed.

'Now, be a good girl, mon cher.' Pierre said. 'If you feel tired, go to sleep immediately, okay?'

Flora nodded silently, looking at her teddy bear and playing with its arms.

Pierre kissed the top of her head, then left the room. Flora watched as he closed the door behind him.

_**-Wind Flower-**_

The four-year-old lolled around on the living room carpet, for the lack of something better to do. It was evening, and Flora had just woken up from a nap. She had gone out into the balcony to see if there was anyone at the playground, but found that it was empty, so there was no point in going down. She had kept herself entertained by reading, but that soon lost its charm. She went on to colour the cute animals in her colouring book, and finished the last few pages of it. Then she went to turn on the television, but her favourite cartoon was not on. So here she was, lying on the carpet and playing with her teddy bear. The aroma wafted in from the kitchen, and Flora knew her mother was cooking. Her stomach growled as she made Teddy fly over imaginary buildings. Dinner would be served when her father came home. She could not wait.

As Teddy was climbing onto the tabletop to save a village from a hulking monster, Flora heard the front door open, followed by the tell-tale jingle of keys. The child brightened up and made her way quickly to her father, with Teddy in tow. The man was just taking off his remaining sock when his daughter entered his sights. He smiled, putting his briefcase aside and lifting the girl up in his arms.

'Papa!'

'Hello there, petit.' Pierre gave his daughter's forehead a little peck. 'You seem very happy.'

'I am.' Flora replied innocently. 'I'm hungry, and when Papa comes back home that means we can dinner soon!'

Carefully bending down to take his briefcase without dropping his child, Pierre made his way to the bedroom. 'Oh… so you're just happy because you can get dinner soon, but not because papa is back?' He put on a mock saddened expression.

'Noo…' The blond child drew out the vowel. 'I'm happy papa is back, but I'm also very hungry.' She pouted.

Pierre chuckled and deposited the child onto the floor when he reached his bedroom. 'Just let papa get a shower first, then we can have dinner, okay?'

'Okay!' Flora happily agreed. She skipped into her room and placed Teddy on her bed. Her mother never allowed her to eat with Teddy by her side. She was afraid the child would dirty the toy with food.

Flora made her way into the kitchen, where her mother was just transferring vegetables from the chopping board into the pan. A loud sizzle issued from the pan when the greens fell into it, and Yun Hee proceeded to stir-fry the food. The sound of the kitchen chair dragging on the floor made her look back, and she saw her daughter climbing onto the seat.

'What are you doing, Flora?' She asked, before quickly turning her attention back at the pan.

'Waiting for dinner.' The child replied simply as she watched her mother work at the vegetables. 'I'm hungry.'

'Well, dinner will be done soon.' Yun Hee replied. 'Don't you have anywhere else to be instead of just sitting here?' She did not get an answer, but it quickly slipped her mind when the phone rang just as she was loading a plate with the cooked vegetables. The Korean woman turned the stove off and placed the plate of vegetables on the kitchen table, then went into the living room to pick the phone up.

Flora stood on the chair, trying to get a look at the pan that was still on the stove. She had never seen it up close, sitting on the stove after being used, before. The child got off the seat and pulled it closer to the counter next to the stove, and climbed onto it again. The blonde leaned carefully over, and she felt the heat still emanating from the stove on her face. The black surface of the pan was mildly oily. Flora tilted her head as she stretched out a finger to touch the slightly glistening surface. The tip of her index finger made contact with the metal, and she quick drew it back when it burned her skin lightly. So this was how hot it felt for the vegetables.

'Flora!' Yun Hee's sharp voice cracked into the kitchen. 'What are you doing?'

The child got startled, turning her head swiftly to look at the source of the voice, and her head banged onto the kitchen cabinet. The pain of the bump made her forget what she was doing, and her foot suddenly slipped off the chair. The child heard her mother's panicked 'Flora!' as she fell backwards along with the chair. The girl's hand reached out to try and find something to cling onto, but it only found purchase on the chopping board. The knife her mother had been using was still, unfortunately, left lying on the board, and following the momentum that Flora had given the chopping board, the knife slipped off. As the blond child landed on her back, she felt a hot line of pain across the back of her hand, along with the clatter of metal on the tiled floor. She looked at her hand, and found a long cut across the back of it. Blood quickly rushed up to the open wound and started flowing down her light skin. The pain, with the added horror of seeing blood flowing out of her hand, made tears fall from her eyes. The four-year-old started bawling loudly, holding her hand out in front of her, the wound trailing red tributaries down over her wrist.

'_Damn it_!' Yun Hee cursed in Korean, hurriedly kneeling down beside her child, taking the small wounded hand into her own. Her fingers started becoming slick with her daughter's blood. The mother took the offending knife off the floor and put it onto the counter, not wanting it to injure anyone else accidentally. 'What were you doing, silly girl. I've told you so many times not to play in the kitchen-,'

'What's happening?' Pierre came into the kitchen, his hair still wet, and his eyes locked onto the bleeding wound on his daughter's hand. 'Flora!' He rushed over to his daughter's side, hand reaching out to touch Flora's hand. Then he slipped his arms under Flora and lifted her up, carrying her out into the living room. Pierre settled Flora onto the sofa, and Yun Hee arrived not long after with a first aid kit. Her parents proceeded to clean the wound as best they could with gauzes, making their daughter wince lightly every time the cotton came to close to the wound. When Pierre secured the roll of bandage around Flora's hand, the child had calmed down, but was still sobbing.

'How did this happen?' The husband asked his wife.

'She was playing around the stove, then she fell and the knife cut her.' Yun Hee replied, feeling annoyed, as she turned towards Flora. 'I told you so many times _not_ to play in the kitchen, Flora.' She scolded.

'And where were you?' Pierre asked accusingly. 'You were supposed to take care of her. Don't put all the blame on the child.'

His wife's eyes narrowed. 'Are you blaming me now, Pierre?'

'Scolding the child won't help anything now, Hee. She's hurt. What's happened has already happened.'

'If you don't tell her what not to do, more of this will happen in future.'

'I believe that this is enough of a lesson.'

'You should stop indulging in the child, Pierre! You're spoiling her!'

'And you should stop being so harsh on her!' Their voices were slightly raised now. 'She's only four, Yun Hee. She doesn't know what's right or wrong.'

'That's what we have to teach her! You should-,' Yun Hee threw her hands up in exasperation. 'Forget it! Whatever I say, you will not listen. You never do.' She stood up angrily. 'Why do I even bother in the first place?' She stalked off.

Pierre glared after her, jaw clenched. Flora watched the whole exchange in silence, her sobs having ebbed away. She had seen her parents fight before, but never in front of her. It… intimidated her. It made her feel guilty.

That night, dinner was not at the dining table. The mother ate in the kitchen. Father and daughter sat in front of the television, daughter with her plate on the table eating clumsily with the aid of her father, because her dominant right hand was the injured one.

Flora fell asleep with subdued guilt that night. But she managed to forget it by the next morning. That's how things were with children, right?

But it was certainly not with adults.

_**-Wind Flower-**_

She heard the _ding _from the microwave, but did not get out of her bed. She would get it later.

'Maybe you could come over sometime,' Miria suggested from the other end of the line. 'Sutare's a little different from France, a little smaller too, but on the whole it's nice. I could give you a tour if you want.'

'Maybe next time.' Flora replied, sitting up in her bed, trying to ignore the raised voice filtering into her room. 'Maybe when I'm older, then I could go there alone.'

'Oh. Couldn't you come here with them?'

'Are you kidding?' The fourteen-year-old replied.

'I'm sorry.'

'It's okay.'

'I'd really like to see you again, though.' Miria told her friend. 'You know, in person. Not over the webcam.'

Flora smiled a little. 'I'd like that too. I think I will go over the first chance I get. I'm getting quite… sick of things over here.'

'Are they still quarrelling?'

'Yes.' The blonde sighed. 'In fact, they're at it again right now.'

'Isn't there anything that you can do?'

'No.'

'_Miria, let's go! Dad's already at the car!' _A distant voice came from over the phone.

'Oh, my brother's calling me.' Miria paused. 'I've got to go, Flora. But call me whenever you feel like it, all right?'

'Yeah, thanks. Bye.'

'Bye.' Miria hung up.

Flora took the phone away from her ear after the click, and pressed the 'end call' button. She placed it on the bedside table.

'_You know, I would enjoy coming back home more if you would stop jumping down my throat every five seconds!'_

'_Home? Do you even have a home? Is this your home? Or is it somewhere else?'_

'_Don't start on that, woman. You're just as guilty as I am.'_

'_Really? And who started it first?'_

The teenager laid back down, covering her head with her pillow, trying to block out the muffled, but audible, voices. Not for the first time, she wondered how sound could travel so clearly through two doors to enter her room. Then she remembered that her dinner was still in the microwave. The girl lifted the pillow off her head and, heaving a sigh, got off the bed reluctantly. When she opened the door, she tried to deliberately block the voices out of her mind and walked faster towards the kitchen.

About half a year earlier, her father had started staying out of the house more. Almost every workday, he'd leave the house early and come home late. There was tension between the married couple, but it had remained unspoken and untouched. There were several sharp exchanges between husband and wife now and then, breaking the cold war that had fallen between them. Communication was kept to the minimal. Caught up in their domestic tangle, both parents became absorbed in their own worlds. Pierre buried himself in work. When he was at home, he stayed mostly in the study. Yun Hee still performed the household chores, but had stopped cooking meals because the family stopped eating together at the dining table some time ago. She also did not make much conversation and kept to herself. Over time, Flora became involved in this 'cold war', but just as a passive party, someone caught along in a bigger conflict. The three family members stayed away from each other and did not make much effort to talk to each other.

Things got worse when Yun Hee found out Pierre had an extra-marital affair. A full-out verbal fight broke out in the living room, with Flora standing behind the corner of the hallway, watching as her mother slapped and aimed a few hits at Pierre, who said it was the Korean who pushed him to it. Just moments after Flora retreated back into her room and shed a few tears on her pillow, she heard a door slam shut, followed by another. About a month later, while roaming downtown alone, Flora saw her father with another woman on his arm. She had watched as Pierre received a sound kiss from the woman before he opened his car's door for her. Her father only came back home the following night. When Flora confronted him, she received a slap for her accusations and a 'Don't interfere into our matters.' Everything had led up to now, constant fights dotting a long-enduring cold war, both parents with their own partners outside their marriage and the daughter who learnt to live independently for the most part. She still depended on her parents for financial support.

Flora pressed the microwave's button and the small door popped open. She waited a minute or two before reaching in and taking the microwaveable plastic container. With an elbow, she pushed the door closed while extracting a pair of fork and spoon with another hand. As she made her way back into her room, something her mother said caught her attention.

'_If that's how it is, then we might as well get a divorce!'_

The blonde stopped, ears taking in her parents' exchange.

'_A divorce? What about Flora?'_

'_If you're so concerned, you can have custody of her then.'_

'_No. I won't allow it. She needs a family.'_

A hollow laugh from her mother. _'A family? So you want to keep a façade of a functioning family, when we're already so fucked up?'_

'_She doesn't deserve this.' _Pierre sounded… hesitant.

'_God!' _Her mother cursed. _'If I knew it would be this difficult separating from you, then I shouldn't even have had her in the first place!'_

A lump rose unexpectedly in her throat, and her eyes welled up with moisture, but she held it back. Just barely.

'_Keep your voice down! I don't want her to overhear this.'_

_Too late,_ Flora thought to herself, as she slipped back into her room and shut her door quietly. She placed her food in front of her laptop and sat down. Staring unseeingly at her computer screen, she eventually promised herself that she would leave France one day.

She harboured this promise until her fifteenth birthday, when she announced her intentions to her parents.

_**-Wind Flower-**_

Flora sat at the table, eyes wandering around the café and examining various faces, while she waited for Miria to finish placing their orders at the counter.

It was a little over a year since Flora had announced that she wanted to study in Sutare. She had been living here in Sutare for about two months, and she finally felt like she has gotten more comfortable in this new environment. More or less, anyway, thanks to Miria's help. After moving into her new home, she had immediately applied for admission into the redhead's high school, but a series of administrative delays made her wait for a whole month before she could start her lessons. Her first day had been rather smooth and uneventful, aside from the fact that her new Sutarean classmates showed that extra bit of interest in her after learning that she was from France. _'Well, we don't get French students transferring over into our school that often. So you're bound to attract a little attention,' _Miria, who thankfully was one of her classmates, reasoned with the blonde. After a short span of two weeks since joining the school, Flora managed to adapt better to her new environment. The prevalent use of English in public, the different types of food, the lifestyle in Sutare did not make her feel as foreign anymore. Now she was trying to lose, or just cover up, her noticeable foreign accent.

A hand waving in front of her face brought her awareness from the back of her mind to reality. Miria cocked her head, studying her friend.

'Zoning out?'

'Just thinking.' Flora lifted her chin from her hand, taking the receipt from between Miria's fingers to check the price of her food.

'About?' The redhead asked, accepting the money Flora handed to her.

'This and that.' The blonde replied vaguely.

'Hm. That's helpful.'

Flora's retort was cut off by the arrival of their drinks, and she let it drop, settling for just sipping her hot coffee.

'Would you like to stay over for dinner tonight?' Miria offered, stirring her fruit punch with a straw. 'My parents flew to America just this morning, so the house will be empty for about a week.' She paused, a new thought striking her. 'You know what? Just stay over at our place. It'll be better than just staying alone at home.'

'Mm… okay then. It's not like I have anything interesting at home anyway.' Flora smiled, enthusiasm slowly growing at the prospect at staying over at her friend's. 'But I'll have to pack my stuff first.'

'We can go over to your house first and get your stuff packed. Then we'll go over to my place.' Miria shrugged. 'But it's up to you, of course.'

'All right then,' Flora mimicked her shrug. 'I'm fine with that.'

'Ah… I hope we'll get our project done soon. So we can have more time to enjoy…' The redhead's phone rang, catching her attention.

'Hello. Helen? … No, I'm outside… Why?' Miria played idly with her straw, listening to her friend on the phone. 'Huh? Why are you having a math test so late? No, I don't have my calculator with me… Isn't there anyone else? But I've already ordered my food…' Her face started shifting into a sympathetic expression. 'But how can I help? I mean…' She glanced up at Flora and her eyes brightened. 'Oh, hold on, Helen.'

'Do you have your calculator with you?' Miria asked the blonde, who nodded. 'Could Helen borrow it from you for her make-up test later? She can't postpone this.'

Flora frowned, a little confused. 'Of course she can. But don't tell me she's coming all the way over here.'

'I'll bring it over to her.'

'Um… Okay then.'

The redhead smiled, then returned to her phone. 'Helen, I've got a calculator for you. I'll pass it to you in school. What time's the test again? Okay, I'll make it. Wait for me at the school gate in…' She checked her watch. 'Forty minutes. Is that all right? Okay, bye.'

Flora raised her brows slightly as she watched her friend put her phone on the table, and then bend over to rummage in her bag.

'How are you going to make it in forty minutes? We took about an hour to come here by bus…' Her voice drifted a little when she saw Miria withdraw her running kit. 'You're going to _run _there?'

'Not all the way.' Miria said, rising out of her chair. 'I'm taking a bus down to Rennard Theater, _then_ I'll run there. I know a shortcut.'

'You're… unbelievable.' Flora directed the words to her friend's back, who looked over her shoulder, giving a mock-resigned expression and headed into the toilet.

Miria changed in less than five minutes, returning to the table to dump her uniform into her bag and taking Flora's proffered calculator.

'I'll be back as fast as I can. And thanks, by the way. On behalf of Helen.' The runner waved the calculator a little, packing her phone and wallet into her pockets before leaving the café.

The blonde watched her friend jog out of sight, taking another sip out of her drink and accidentally scalding her tongue. She quickly withdrew the appendage and pressed it up against the roof of her mouth, grimacing. Holding the spoon, she half-stirred and stabbed the cup of coffee accusingly.

'Hello, young lady.' An unfamiliar voice caught her attention, and Flora quickly looked up at its owner. A white-haired couple stood next to her table, smiling benignly at her. The man was the one who spoke, and he continued. 'Would you mind if we shared this table with you? This place is quite packed, we can't find another place for ourselves…'

'Oh, of course! Erm…' Flora hastily removed her bag from the chair beside her, then stood up to do the same for Miria's. 'Here.' She gestured towards the two now empty seats at the four-man table, indicating the spaces were now free, and earning wider smiles from the elders.

'Thank you, we hope we're not bothering you…' The lady said as she lowered herself into the seat.

'It's no trouble.' Flora offered a friendly smile. 'I'm glad to help.'

**_-Wind Flower-_**

'… And did you see how she acted when I passed by her? God, I'm surprised that no one has tried to slap that stupid expression off that thing she calls a face.' Teresa huffed, gesturing irritably with her hand.

Irene listened to her friend rant on about a classmate, amused at the various creative descriptions of the subject that Teresa could come up with, even though a part of her wished for a lull in the never-ending flow of words. The black-haired student had been on the same topic, bashing the same person, ever since they set foot out of the campus. They had finished a presentation at school, in groupings where the two of them were separated. Irene had no problem with her teammates, but Teresa's… relationship, if you could call it that, with Keira had as little friction as when two pieces of sandpaper were rubbed together. Long story short, they could not agree on anything, could not stand the sight of each other and could not even bear the thought of them sharing the same breathing space every day in the classroom. What Keira gave in snide and unsubtle remarks, Teresa returned with passive aggressive comments. Normally, it served as a form of entertainment for Irene, but days like this, when tensions between the two overflowed, her ears suffered. Her friend's barrage of insults towards her enemy was never-ending. But having been through a few of these tirades, Irene had learnt how to slowly turn Teresa's tap off without bursting a pipe.

'Mm, she's a bitch, all right… But I think you're being too harsh on her.' Irene started, earning a disbelieving glare from the woman. 'First of all, I think her face is still recognizable as a face. _And,_' Irene pressed on, cutting off Teresa's unspoken words. 'I think nobody has slapped her yet because they pity her.' She looked squarely at her friend. 'I mean, I'd want to punch her face in, but I can see that her genetics are putting it through enough already.'

Teresa paused in her steps, still staring at Irene, who halted as well.

'Teresa…?'

The woman did not reply for a moment. Then she burst out laughing, attracting curious and surprised glances from the few people around. She walked up towards her friend and slung an arm around her back.

'I'm so proud of you,' Teresa informed the thinner girl. 'You're finally cultivating your sense of humour! And, best of all, you're using it for my cause.' She patted Irene's shoulder a few times. 'I think I should treat you to a drink today.'

'That's it? Just a drink?'

'Don't be greedy.'

'Well, then. I take back my words. Keira is-,' Irene paused, feeling her phone vibrate in her pocket. She withdrew it, and saw a new text message.

_Dominic – Hey babe, I'm finally back! On the way home now. Wanna go out together soon? I missed you. Oh,and Mr. Milten's given the team a school break for the rest of the week. Heh. ;D_

The corners of Irene's lips involuntarily quirked upward. Dom always sounded so cheerful, and sometimes she marveled at the way it could radiate even through the phone. One of the reasons why she decided to date him. As she pressed the reply option, she noticed Teresa gazing at her with a knowing expression and a slight smirk. Irene replied the unspoken message with a slight narrowing of her eyes, and quickly typed in a reply to Dom. As she stowed her phone away, Teresa finally spoke.

'Dominic, wasn't it.' It sounded more like a statement than a question. Irene kept her face straight.

'It was.'

'Obvious. Your face shows it all.'

'Yeah?'

'Yeah. You always smile at your phone when he texts you, or calls.'

'Really.'

'Well, I don't blame you. He's quite a catch after all. He's nice. He's captain of the basketball team. He has a group of girls praying for you to break up with him so they can ravish his body. He-,'

'All right, all right! That's enough!' Irene interrupted, holding a hand up. 'I get it. I concede. I smile when he texts. Happy now?'

Teresa shrugged, turning her attention back to the front just as Irene received another message.

_Dominic – Oh wait. I'll pick you up tomorrow after your training. You're having training, right?_

'Have you slept with him yet?'

Irene, caught off guard, looked quickly up at her companion. But feeling her cheeks grow warmer by the second, she realized it was a mistake and turned back towards her phone, typing in a, "_Yes. 6.30._", to stall for time.

'You did.'

'… Yes.' Irene said softly, not to mention reluctantly. Normally, she would not have told anyone. But this was Teresa. Yes, she did. Not long ago, just before Dom left for the competition. Her first.

'Did you know what you were doing?'

'Yes.'

'Did you want it?'

Irene felt her cheeks colour even more. Why were they even discussing this while walking on the streets? Irene knew there were not many people around, but still. 'Yes.'

'Do you regret it?'

'Ye-, I mean, no.' Irene glared at Teresa, who raised a brow. '_No,_' she repeated, putting more stress on the word. 'Your questions tricked me. You tricked me into saying yes.'

Teresa shrugged. 'Well, I sure hope you meant it. But I'm happy for you. You're not one of the school's dumb airheads, after all.'

'Like Keira?' Irene inserted the girl's name to try and steer the conversation away from herself.

'Yes, like that bitch. And here we are.' The black-haired woman stopped outside the café, looking in through the windows. 'Damn, this place is packed.' The both of them scanned the quarters, looking for an empty table. Then Irene saw a table for four being occupied by only one girl.

'Hey.' The silver-haired woman said, pointing a finger. 'Maybe we could share the table with her.'

'Okay. Quickly, let's go!' Teresa grabbed Irene's elbow and dragged her into the modest establishment. 'Aw!' She stopped again, shoulders sagging a little as an elderly couple approached the table and spoke to the blonde sitting there.

Irene watched as the blond girl cleared the chairs for the couple to sit. 'Nevermind then. We'll go someplace else.' It was her turn to pull Teresa, now out of the café. 'It's your fault for wanting to come here.'

Teresa took in a breath and exhaled, resigned. 'Maybe we could come back here next time. Oh well. Let's go to the mall, then.'

Irene cast one last glance back at the café, then followed her friend's lead.

* * *

><p>The last two parts were inspired by the extract of the poem in the beginning. How you and your lover were just strangers before the two of you got to know each other.<p>

Carol Ann Duffy's poems are really interesting, I enjoy reading them and would recommend them to you too! *insert smiley face*

I'll be writing the next chapter really soon. I promise to get it up here as soon as possible. *pinky promise* Come on, don't leave me hanging... *wags pinky*


	7. Thunder Is Raging

Whew! Finally done with this chapter. Again, thanks for the reviews. You have no idea how much I love them. It scares me, sometimes.

* * *

><p><em>In the raging wind, control of confusion<em>

_The spirit that controls this right arm_

_Remaining tranquil, seeing through everything_

_But my chest is hot! Hot!_

_The pulse runs_

_- Hurricane(Shippu), Takayama Minami_

**Chapter 7: Thunder Is Raging**

An unceasing series of rapid-fire _thuds _sounded throughout the room, along with short pants of controlled breathing. Irene focused on the black target in front of her, delivering short turning kicks with swift precision. _58-59-60! _A shout burst from her lips as she switched her kicking foot, feet sweeping lightning-fast past each other to their new positions, before starting yet another 60-rep drill on the target. She did not let her pace slacken, did not let her rhythm falter; she never let herself go easy. The lactic acid burned in her muscles, especially so in her legs. _60! _Irene let her foot sail right through the target, sending it flying off the matted part of the floor onto the wooden tiles. All the while keeping her weight on the balls of her feet, she turned towards her man-like dummy. Out of pure indulgence, Irene strode towards it and, placing a foot on the faux-man's chest as leverage, she pushed off and vaulted into the air, flipping once before landing on the mat again. Then she rushed at the dummy, launching a few showy kicks before ending the day's training.

It was Monday afternoon, and Irene was at home in her personal training space as there were no lessons or training for the day. Their coach had decided to let them have one more day of rest before picking it up on Tuesday. Only four more days of training before the big day. Irene could not wait. Sometimes the athlete couldn't recall how it felt like being able to sit on the sofa or lie on the bed without her muscles feeling fatigued or aching. Smiling to herself, and still bouncing on the balls of her feet, Irene gave the dummy one more kick before proceeding into her cool-down stretches. She stretched her arms above her head, relieving the tension in her back, and turned around to find her mother leaning on the doorframe, eyes fixated on her.

'Nice backflip.'

'Thanks.'

'Are you done? I need to try out some new compositions.' Valencia held up the score sheets in her hand. 'And I think I'll concentrate better without you hammering away at your targets behind me.'

'Yeah, I'm done.' Irene gestured with her hand towards the music area of the hobby room, bowing slightly as though she were a butler. 'Please, feel free.' The daughter then slid smoothly into a split, her heels on the floor and toes pointing up. Leaving her legs in the same position, Irene pushed herself forward, arms stretched in front. She enjoyed the feeling of her muscles being stretched. It had been painful for her at first, when she was training herself to do full splits. But as she got used to it, she found that the sensation was rather comfortable. Irene smiled to herself again and pushed herself up, catching sight of her mother still staring at her.

'What?'

Valencia cocked her head, lips quirked. 'Call me strange, but I always find the sight of people doing splits quite…' She waved a hand in the air, as though it helped to express her thoughts. 'I don't know… weird?'

'Weird?' Irene let out a small chuckle. 'Just because you can't do it.'

'Because it looks like an unnatural position,' Valencia defended herself. 'What was the person who invented splits thinking?'

'We do it for flexibility, mom.'

'I know, but still.' The older woman walked over to her piano and placed the sheets on it. 'Splaying out your legs like that.' She shrugged. 'Oh, whatever. It's just me, I suppose.'

Irene let out a snort. 'If you think laying them flat on the floor is "weird", you should take a look at Teresa. She can do a split on the floor, _with _a small stack of books under one foot. Like a larger-than-180 degree split.' The first time she saw the black-haired gymnast do it, Irene almost freaked out. It looked like Teresa had dislocated her leg.

'That's… that's… disgusting.' Valencia's expression morphed into one of disbelief. 'Who in the world would want to do that? Won't they hurt themselves?'

Irene shrugged, standing up slowly. 'If they do it carefully, then they won't.' She remembered something Teresa had told her, and a twisted smile spread across her lips, knowing it would send her mother reeling. Well, not really _reeling,_ but elicit some sort of reaction. 'Teresa had a gym friend in high school who tore her hymen because she landed into a split too hard.'

'What?' Valencia's gaze, Irene noticed, slipped down her body and then up to her eyes again very quickly. 'Ew. Stop your stories, please.' The older woman sat down at the piano, flipping through her score sheets. 'Actually, that's quite funny. At least she lost her physical virginity to something she loves.'

'Hah!' A short laugh from the younger. 'Since you put it that way…' She walked over to the piano next to her mother, hand reaching out for the score sheets, only to have it swatted away.

'Don't touch them, especially not with your sweaty hands. And go take a bath.' Valencia pushed her daughter further away from her. 'You stink.'

'I don't stink. I'm a girl.'

'Girls stink too, don't try to play dumb. Now go. I can't concentrate.'

Irene shrugged at her mother's back. 'Fine.'

Valencia did not reply, her fingers already pressing the piano keys, playing her new creations experimentally.

Irene picked up the target that flew from the mat and placed it back into its holder. Then she picked up her towel and water bottle and made for her room. Swallowing the last few drops of liquid from the bottle, she tossed it lightly onto her study table and turned her desktop computer on so that it would be ready for her when she finished.

Sure enough, as always, it was booted up and waiting for its master when she returned from a comfortable twenty minutes soaked in warm fragrant water. Irene clicked on the "sign in" button for Live Messenger and toweled her hair dry as she waited the process to finish. The moment she was logged in, the Taekwondo club's vice-president started a conversation.

_Leo: Hey, you have to look at this, man. _

He added a Youtube link.

_Leo: Damn Westville. They're sore losers. _

_Irene: Hold up. Let me at least take a look at it first, ok?_

Clicking on the link led her to a video, which was the recording of their club's public demonstration. Nothing wrong with that. Irene then scrolled down to the comments, and found the source of Leo's frustration. The comments, oh, the comments. A skirmish was being fought through those angry and… unflattering words. Irene followed the thread, and found a fair share of insults directed at her, which were retaliated with equally creative comments which Irene suspected came from a few members of the Claymore club. She had an inkling as to who the haters were: Westville, last year's overall first runner-up. Frowning as she read through the rabble, Irene did not know whether to laugh or get angry.

"_This means nothing. That white haired witch won by dumb luck. She is nothing but a disgrace to the martial art."_

"_Agreed. She only knows how to dance around the arena. Stand and take your share of kicks, coward. Their vice-president is no better. A bunch of losers."_

"_Hey, I bet they're fucking each other. Haha!"_

"_Shut up, idiots. The results are enough to show who's the best."_

"_The best? Yeah, they're the best. At making great big fools out of themselves, that's what!"_

"_The irony. Who's making a fool of themselves now?"_

"_Fuck you buttmunch. Let's see who'll win this year's competition. It'll be Westville, that's who. Losers."_

And the debacle degenerated into pointless and angry cursing. Irene gave up following the comment thread, and closed the tab. She brought up her conversation window with Leo.

_Irene: They don't know I like girls? They thinking we're sleeping with each other. Ha._

_Leo: They called me a gigolo, damn it! And they called you a... an… oral sex extraordinaire._

The silver-haired woman couldn't help but let out a laugh. Leo sure could over-euphemise when he wants to.

_Irene: Who cares? We'll just show them who's the extraordinaire and disgrace on Saturday._

_Leo: How do you take this shit, Irene? How the hell do you take it?_

_Irene: I don't. I'm just gonna throw it back at them on Sat. _

_Leo: … I admire you._

_Irene: Thank you. Anyway, tell the others to stop fighting, if they are. It's useless._

_Leo: Yes boss._

Irene minimized the conversation window and went onto Facebook, wondering if their club's private group had caught onto the comment war. Sure enough, the video was the topmost post on the wall, with over 40 comments. One of the last few comments was from their coach, telling them to leave it and just concentrate on training themselves. Irene just switched back to her own profile page, not bothering to push herself into the fray. The hate was useless, even though it had escalated notably from the mutual leering at the stadium the year before. _Just let our achievements speak for themselves, _Irene thought to herself as she scrolled down her wall. Nothing much. Then she noticed something new in her friends list. Flora Chevalier. Irene had sent the friend request in the morning, after much hesitation and staring at the screen, her finger hovering uncertainly over the mouse button. She did not send friend requests, mostly. But this one was special, right? What did the blonde think when she saw the request? Did it matter now that she has already accepted it? _And why am I getting more troubled than it was worth over this?_ The athlete shook her head lightly, chiding herself silently for not thinking straight. Or rather, thinking too much. She had been doing a lot of that recently. Irene clicked on Flora's name and got directed to her wall. It had notably more activity than Irene's, which was a given since Irene only went onto Facebook when she really needed to, like when she needed to give information and notices to the club through the group page. Other than that, the 21-year-old usually just left it alone.

She scrolled through the posts on Flora's wall, reading a few of her French friends' questions of "when are you coming back to France?" or "are you going to visit us some time?" but she soon got tired of it and went to the photos. An unconscious smile spread across her face when a few photos of Flora and Bill greeted her. The canine seemed to be smiling along with his owner at the camera. There were quite a lot of photos of the blonde and the runner, Miria, even some of them in identical high school uniforms. There were quite a few pictures of Flora in her high school prom, and Irene paused there for _just a little awhile,_ as she would like to tell herself after that. Only a smattering of photos during her graduation day, followed by the rest of the photos she had taken in high school, quite a lot of them taken with the music club. Irene looked for pictures of her in France, but could not find any except for the sparse few rounding up the whole photo collection, ones of the blonde posing with her friends at quite a few locations like the Eiffel Tower and the Palace of Versailles. None of her with her family, Irene noted, with a twinge in her chest. But did she really expect to find any? Especially after what the blonde had confided in her the day before?

'Irene, do you have any pencil lead?'

Valencia's voice came from her bedroom's doorway, where she had left the door open. Jumping slightly, Irene quickly closed the Facebook tab without even looking back at her mother, who was strolling into her room.

'I can't find my-,' the older woman paused, frowning slightly at her daughter, having noticed the jerk of her shoulders and the quick click of the mouse. 'What were you doing?' She asked suspiciously.

'Nothing. You just startled me, that's all.' Irene kept her voice level, trying to ride over the mini adrenaline rush.

The musician raised an eyebrow, but decided not to pursue the matter. 'So? Do you have any lead?'

'Yeah, here.' Irene stretched out to take her pencil case, quickly extracting the small cylinder of graphite and handing it over to her mother, who just as swiftly took one and returned the rest to her daughter.

'Thanks.' Valencia said, stepping out of the room, where she paused again. 'By the way, I don't mind if you watch porn. Just keep it down and don't let me know, especially if you're-,'

'_I was not watching porn!' _Irene hissed indignantly, feeling scandalized. '_I don't watch it!'_

'So you say.'

'_Mom!'_

Valencia burst out laughing, with Irene sitting in her chair cursing silently to herself.

_**-Wind Flower-**_

Irene sat in her chair in the corridor leading out into the stadium, waiting for her match to start. Even though she had her headphones on, the crowd's periodical cheering still managed to filter in to reach her ear drums. It always managed to make her heart speed up a little, but then she concentrated on her mother's voice and managed to calm herself down more, although her heart was still beating faster than usual due to anticipation. Sonya had been the one to introduce this method of soothing her nerves before a match. When Irene had just started her sparring career, her nerves were one of her biggest problems as she did not have much experience yet. So the teacher told her to make a music playlist of songs that she liked or could help her keep calm, and plug in while waiting for her match to start. At first Irene did not know which songs to choose. Her initial playlist consisted of pop songs she liked, but they only managed to keep her heart rate up. Rock songs, her preferred genre of music, had only a little more effect. Then she tried out instrumental classical music, including those composed by her mother, but it had no effect after the first ten or so minutes. Her answer came when Valencia finally released her own solo music album, in which she actually sang, after much persuasion from her company. Irene had gotten the album for free from her mother, and the athlete decided to try listening to that album during the wait before her matches. For some reason unknown to her, it worked. Valencia's voice singing romantic ballads managed to take her mind off her uncertainties and stop her limbs from feeling weak. This had eventually become a routine for Irene, who kept to it even now, when she was certain of her own abilities and had quite a lot of experience under her belt. But she did not let her mother know about this, yet.

Irene felt patting on her shoulder and opened her closed eyes to look at her coach.

'They just left.' Coach Eric said, pointing at the empty space that used to be occupied by the competitors of the match before hers. 'Get ready.'

Irene nodded acknowledgement, then closed her eyes again to finish listening to Valencia's song. When the notes have faded, she took off her headphones and stopped the music on her iPhone. Then she opened the messages. There were various messages of "good luck" and "all the best" from her friends, and she read through them again. One of the messages, which had arrived in the morning before they even stepped into the stadium, got most of her attention. She had been reading it over and over again ever since she received it.

_Flora – Hi, all the best for your matches today! I won't say "good luck" coz I don't think you'll even need it. Haha. I'll be there with Miria and the rest. So… hope to watch you receiving your gold medal. No pressure. :)_

Irene smiled to herself once more and locked her phone, handing it over to her coach for safe-keeping. Taking slow and deep breaths, she promised to give her all. To win the gold medal. She closed her eyes again, taking care not to show her emotions to her opponent, who was sitting close by with her coach. Other than her speed, Irene was also known for her impassive expression that told her opponents nothing. Her cold, calculating eyes were often described as "disquieting". It was important to keep one's composure in the arena, and it was equally essential off-stage. Show nervousness, and your opponent will pick up on your uncertainty and hammer away at your weakness.

A rousing cheer from a part of the spectator's stands brought Irene out of her quiet meditation. The men's semi-finals were finally over. This was the second semi-final match, with Leo winning the first, meaning that he'll be one of the two to enter the finals. Irene's upcoming match was the first of the two women's semi-finals. She was up against Lexington's champion. The second match was between the best from Westville and Hansen. Part of Irene wished that Hansen's Alexa would win. She was sincere, unassuming, and most importantly, put on no airs. So unlike Westville's Celestine. Alexa deserved much more recognition than what she had now.

'Women's semi-finals, match 1! Irene Lancett, Claymore University, and Olivia Hart, Lexington University.' The personnel called, gesturing for the competitors to stand in place. 'Irene,' he looked at the silver-haired athlete for confirmation. 'Please stand here, and Olivia, here. Thank you.'

Irene turned and extended a hand towards Olivia, who looked a little taken aback, but immediately grasped the proffered hand and shook it.

'All the best.' Irene gave a small smile, which was returned wholeheartedly.

'Thanks. You too.'

The moment their hands broke apart, the next match was announced, a cue for them to start walking out. The personnel ushered them out, almost like a mother hen.

'Women's semi-finals, match 1. Irene Lancett, from Claymore University.' A roar came from the Claymore supporters in the stand. 'And Olivia Hart, from Lexington University.' A similar greeting from the Lexington side.

When she reached her side of the matted arena, Irene popped on her mouth guard and looked at her coach, who clasped both her shoulders.

'Do your best.' He smiled. 'Like you've always done.'

With her mouth guards hindering her ability to speak, Irene just gave a nod and slipped on her head guard. She hopped a few times on the balls of her feet, casting a glance back at the Claymore stand, which was right behind her. The action triggered a chorus of encouragement that she acknowledged with a raised fist. She caught sight of her mother, who was grinning, ready to witness her daughter kick butt yet again. Then Irene's eyes landed on Flora, who was also looking right back at her. For a moment, in that connection, Irene forgot where she was. But then she was promptly brought back by her coach, who patted her again and gestured towards the arena, where Olivia was already walking to the centre. Without a backward glance, Irene approached the middle of the mat as well, clearing her mind of any other distractions.

The two fighters faced each other, eyes quickly scanning the other, sizing her opponent up. The referee asked if both were ready, and received curt nods as affirmation. Then he gave the Korean commands.

'_Cha-ryeot!'_

They brought their legs together, arms by their sides, back straight at attention.

'_Gyeong-rye!'_

The two bowed, eyes lowered respectfully.

'_Jwoon-bi!'_

Shouts from the women, as they shifted into combat stance, at ready. The referee placed his arm between the pair.

'_Shi-jak!'_

The referee swung his hand up, a clear signal that the match had started. Olivia started small hops, keeping herself on the balls of her feet, muscles ready to react the moment her opponent attacked. Irene, on the other hand, made no movement at all. She just stood still, willing her muscles to relax while watching for any twitch of her opponent's body. For a few seconds, the fighters just circled around each other, waiting for the other to make the first move. Then Olivia began, closing in quickly, leg flinging out to aim a kick at Irene's side. The silver-haired fighter dodged it and swung a retaliatory kick to take advantage of her opponent's second of vulnerability. It connected, and the first point went to Irene Lancett. The back of her mind registered a loud cheer from the stands, even as she started towards Olivia, starting a flurry of attacks that was returned in earnest. Irene controlled herself, keeping her speed moderate. She took the time to build a quick mental profile of her opponent, taking note of her dominant leg, her favourite attacks and movements, as well as any habits, if there were any.

Olivia, still bouncing lightly on the balls of her feet, slid forward and Irene instinctively backed off, keeping the distance between them. Then Olivia rushed at her, her legs delivering kick after kick at Irene's abdomen, and occasionally her head. Irene dodged, but lost track of where the kicks were coming from and immediately suffered a hard kick at her solar plexus from Olivia's instep. The silver-haired fighter recoiled slightly, taking one step back to regain control of her senses, ducking her head to avoid a head hit.

'What are you doing, Irene!' She heard her coach's voice from the side of the arena. 'Stop defending and attack!' Eric's fierce tone snapped the student back to her senses.

Olivia swung another kick at Irene's side, but the woman side-stepped to prevent the attack from landing and promptly delivered a back thrust at her opponent's chest. It was now Olivia's turn to stagger backwards, but just as Irene wanted give a few follow-up attacks, a buzzer sounded, signaling the end of the first round which Irene had won. 2-1. The referee placed his arm between them, stopping the two from going at each other again. He gave the commands, directing both participants to bow to each other before going off for their short interval of rest. Irene stepped quickly down the small flight of steps to where her coach was standing, with a bottle of water in his outstretched hand. Irene took her helmet off and accepted the bottle, wrenching the cap off and gulping down water. She did not even bother to smooth back the stray strands of hair that escaped its ponytail.

'Irene, you were holding back.' Her coach said, handing her a towel after she was done with the water. 'Don't test her for too long. Attack. That's your forte. Do that, and there'll be no need for a third round, understood?'

The student, breathing deeply, nodded and placed her head guard back on. The scoreboard reset itself. _Round 2, Lancett, I: 0, Hart, O: 0._

Coach Eric gave a hard pat on Irene's back as she stepped back into the arena again. The referee guided them through the customary bow, and started the match. He barely had time to back away when Irene hurtled forward, slamming the sole of her foot into Olivia's abdomen. Irene, noticing dimly the forceful exhale of air from Olivia's lips, did not give her time to think or react. The first surprise kick had already earned her two points. Irene landed two more kicks in Olivia's side, earning two more points. Just when Olivia regained her bearings, her knee coming up to try and throw back a retaliatory kick, the silver-haired athlete closed in. She swung her leg outwards in an arc, in a smooth crescent kick which struck the side of Olivia's head, hard. Her opponent, propelled by the motion of the kick, fell to the side unconscious. This was part of what contributed to her nickname as the "Lightning". Lightning not only strikes fast. It destroys its victims. Just like how Irene's specialty, her head hits, knocked her opponents out cold. Lightning does not defend. It attacks, ruthless and efficient.

Irene stood back as was required of her, watching the medics and Lexington's coach rush up to check on the inanimate fighter. She took the time to catch her breath, pushing down her worry for her opponent. This happened very often in matches. It was something a professional practitioner had to live with and push through. Soon enough, Olivia's eyes opened. Her eyes were glazed over, but they were slowly coming back into focus. She muttered something and tried to stand, supported by her coach, but her legs were too unsteady and her weight fell onto her mentor. The coach and student had a short and terse conversation, before the teacher waved the referee over. The exchange went on for only awhile, then the referee went to deliver a message to the panel of judges. The judges nodded, and as the referee returned to the matted arena, the scoreboard changed. _Winner: Lancett, I_. Olivia had withdrawn from the match. The Claymore part of the stands roared.

Irene took off her head guard, approaching Lexington's coach and bowed. The gesture of respect was returned, and the coach extended a hand for a short handshake. Irene let go of the firm grasp and walked over to Olivia, who was sitting in her seat. Another handshake, then a firm hug. Olivia whispered in Irene's ear, 'If Celestine gets into the finals with you, do me a favour and kick her ass for me, won't you?' Irene grinned when they broke apart.

'Sure. I dislike her too.'

'Good.' Olivia rose slowly to her feet, making sure to keep her balance. 'Congratulations.' She smiled, before turning to walk away with her coach holding onto her arm.

Irene ran back to her coach, who was grinning. He threw her a towel, which she used to wipe her face. Then she looked up at the Claymore students sitting in the stands and gave a thumbs up, which was returned with another cheer. Eric placed his hand on Irene's shoulder as they walked back into the corridor to pick up another bottle of water for the athlete.

'Now, you only have one more match to worry about. I have two.' He smiled.

_**-Wind Flower-**_

Irene made a small pump with her fist; her elation at Leo landing yet another kick at his opponent was much quieter and definitely more dignified than the yells and screams of "YES!" from the Claymore spectators around her. It was Leo's third round in the finals, and he was now tied with his opponent at seven points. Tension was high, and Irene could see both participants becoming slightly panicky as they flung more and wilder kicks at each other. Irene's heart almost stopped when Westville's male champion's kick missed Leo by a fraction of an inch, and her comrade pushed forward to "clutch" his opponent, his chest pressed against the other's, their arms extended straight to show they were not grabbing each other. This was a common tactic used by the fighters to prevent an attack being landed on them. Due to Sonya's belief that this was a bad habit, Irene had been trained _not _to use it. But the same cannot be said for Leo, who had picked it up and used it sparingly in situations when he needed it.

The referee broke the two apart before commencing the match again, but the buzzer went off. The match was over, with the two tied at 7-7. This meant a sudden death match, where the fighter who landed the first blow would be the victor. Irene could almost feel the tensions between the Westville and Claymore side of the stands clashing against each other. The two universities had a long-running and unpleasant rivalry, and it showed no sign of letting up any time soon. The two parties leered at each other when they passed, even though it was toned down whenever an official or coach was around. This fight for the title of male champion was equivalent for a battle of honour for the two clubs, and Irene knew it would be the same for the female's finals. Silently, Irene hoped Leo could fight past the tension and pressure and concentrate on striking first. His strength was in his, well, strength and stamina. His reflexes were almost on par with Irene's, although in sheer speed he lost out by a lot. Her heart racing for her friend, she kept her eyes on the arena as the competitors got ready for the sudden-death.

'_Shi-jak!'_

Irene stopped breathing when she saw Westville's champion fling his leg out first. _No. No, no! Leo, what the fu-, _then her thoughts went blank when a spinning back thrust to the head sent the fighter flying backwards unconscious. _W-what? _Irene's mind struggled to come up to speed, tried to process what happened even as the spectators around her burst out in loud approval. Leo had dodged the first strike. Then he spun and delivered a high back thrust right into his opponent's face. Leo won. _Leo won. _The club's president finally sucked in a huge gulp of air and smiled widely in quiet jubilation, all the while trying to ignore a small twist in her gut. Leo had won his match. His match was over. Now it was time for the final match of the day, the female's finals. Irene's match.

Irene's heart quickened as she processed it. She was going to be up next. Her coach, after freeing himself from Leo's bear hug, turned to her and signaled that she should be going down now. Irene gave a curt nod in acknowledgement and rose from her seat, her heart hammering away at her ribs. She was about to walk away when she felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned to find Valencia and Sonya. Her mother leaned forward and wrapped her arms around her daughter quickly.

'Do your best, dear. Kick that bitch's butt.' The woman patted Irene's head.

'What she said.' Sonya chipped in, and gave Irene a little push. 'Go on, you're up next.'

The silver-haired woman nodded, then made her way down the stairs, with various calls of "Go, Irene. Good luck!" from Teresa and the clique, as well as the rest of her club. Irene shifted her gaze up and found Flora again, who was also looking at her. The fighter smiled and received one in return, before reporting for her match. When she finally reached her coach, she found Westville's coach and Celestine Smith already ready. The two female competitors' eyes connected only for a moment, and the burning desire to kick each other's face into the ground was already communicated between them. Irene, who never liked Celestine from the beginning, disliked her even more after the semi-finals. The brunette had won the third round of her match against Hansen's Alexa Everett, thus clinching her position in the finals. But when the buzzer had sounded to signal the end of the round, Celestine continued to deliver a straight kick aimed at Alexa's face while the woman was relaxed, thinking that Celestine would not attack any more. The impact of her heel broke Alexa's nose, causing blood to immediately stream from the blonde's nostrils. Technically, attacking her opponent could disqualify Celestine from the competition, but she had pleaded her case, stating that she did not hear the buzzer and her kick was delivered merely on instinct, thinking that the match was still on. The judges had considered her argument and accepted it. At that moment, sitting in the stands and watching the match, Irene swore that she would return a similar blow to the woman. She would make her bleed.

Celestine smirked at Irene, but got nothing in return except an unwavering stare. The personnel broke their eye-war.

'Women's finals, Irene Lancett, Claymore University.' He gestured to the spot where Irene and her coach should stand, and they complied. 'Celestine Smith.' The Westville mentor and student got into position as well.

When their match was announced, the spectators cheered again as the competitors strode out to their designated positions. As luck would have it, Irene's seat was right in front the stands occupied by Claymore students, and Celestine was sitting in front of those from her university. Almost like a real war, with the general standing before his troops, Irene mused to herself as she fitted her mouth guards over her teeth. Once she had secured her head guard, making sure it was not loose, coach Eric patted the padded helmet.

'Last stretch. Go for it.' That was all he needed to say. His student had already proven her worth by going this far. He was confident in her abilities.

Irene nodded, hopping a few times to loosen herself up before making her way into the arena. Both competitors stood in front of the referee, as he led them through the customary bows. As they shifted into fighting stances, Irene let her mind fall into the zone, blocking out everything else other than her, Celestine, and the arena.

'_Shi-jak!'_

The silver-haired martial artist did not bother with her usual test-and-scrutinise routine. She did not want a repeat of what happened with Olivia, where she subconsciously shifted into only defending herself. Plus, she had fought Celestine over the title of champion the previous year as well, and she had observed her style during her fight with Alexa. Her preparation was already done before the match. What was left now was to attack, attack, and _destroy._ The Lightning dashed forward, landing the first blow, but it was blocked by Celestine's arm. Relentless, she rained blow after blow, refusing to give her opponent a chance to fight back, wanting to overpower her. Blows to her sides, chest, abdomen and head made Celestine backpedal swiftly away from the one-man army to the other side of the matted arena. Irene took advantage of the large distance her opponent had created and sneaked a glance at the scoreboard. 5-0. Three points from a glancing head blow, one from a kick to the side and one more from the attack to the abdomen. Forcing down a smile and the dangerous beginnings of conceit, Irene focused on her opponent again, who had recovered from the merciless onslaught. Celestine closed in a little, but kept a safe distance away from Irene. The silver-haired fighter reminded herself that Celestine was still a powerful contender, despite her weak start in the match. She had won many other trained participants to make it to the finals. She had ability. Grimly, Irene noted the Celestine had successfully blocked two of Irene's three head kicks. The blonde had trained herself to become less vulnerable to Irene's favoured high kicks.

Celestine started hopping on the balls of her feet just as Olivia had done, and ate up the distance between them, little by little. Irene just stared at her warily, her whole body attuned to the movements of her opponents body. Any hint of an attack, she would make the appropriate split-second response that was already ingrained into her instincts, into every fibre of her body. For a few long seconds, the two just circled each other, faking movements to elicit a response from the other, hoping to create an opening that could be dug into and clawed at. Then the referee stepped between them, pumping his fists together, his motion urging the competitors to fight.

Westville's female champion took the chance to rush at Irene, throwing a kick directed at Irene's head. Irene flung herself back, avoiding the swinging foot and the follow-up attacks. Then the mutual, instinctive exchange of kicks began. Kick, block, counter-attack. Kick, kick, dodge, and so on. They lost track of time, pushing their bodies through the exhaustion to play their role in this violent dance. Once, the two snapped their legs up for a kick at the exact same moment, but the close distance caused their knees to collide into each other. Irene took the chance to shift her legs backwards, ignoring the sharp pain in her kneecap, and gifted Celestine with a clean kick to her abdomen. The blonde, angered, shouted and charged at Irene, who met her head on.

_How long has it been already? How can a two-minute round drag on forever?_ Irene thought at the back of her mind as she fended off blows. She peeked again at the scoreboard, and found that she was leading, 17-10. Not bad.

In that second, Celestine was upon her again. Irene, who was taken off-guard, immediately responded with her favourite kick, the kick that she always relied on. She jumped, spinning around to deliver a powerful back hook to Celestine's head. To her horror, it only made another glancing blow over the top of her opponent's head, the brunette having pushed her leg a little upwards with a block. The next second, Celestine's foot shot out, slamming solidly onto Irene's chest, pushing her backwards. Irene, with her centre of gravity off, landed awkwardly. Her left foot made contact with the floor in the wrong position.

A complication.

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><p>Dun-dun-dundunnnn!<p>

I hope the fight scenes were not too technical and at least interesting. It gets really difficult writing fight scenes at times. *sigh*

Anyway, please leave a review. Don't worry about criticising, my skin is kinda tough. (I hope.) Ahem.

Well, if nothing crops up I'll have an update by next week. I'm getting my major exam's results on Friday and I'm scared. ='(


	8. But Lightning Strikes First

And here's chapter 8! No Irene/Flora progression here yet, very sorry about that. But there will be in the next chapter. ;D

Oh, and I really did not realise how similar Irene's situation is to the Karate Kid! Kinda sharp there, Kuroui.

* * *

><p><em>I'll never kneel and I'll never rest<em>

_You can tear the heart from my chest_

_I'll make you see what I do best_

_I'll succeed as you breathe your very last breath_

_- Shall Never Surrender(DMC4), Jason "Shyboy" Arnold_

**Chapter 8: But Lightning Strikes First**

The moment her foot made contact with the mat, Irene felt herself die inside. Her mind's thoughts were wiped out; all her senses were focused on her only point of contact with the ground. Two emotions were the most prominent in the mess that burst forth. Horror, helplessness. The moment she realized her weight had not landed on the sole of her foot or heel as it should have, but on the outer side of her foot, she felt sick. Taekwondo's sparring relied mainly on kicks. Kicks that drew power from the solid contact that the athlete's feet had with the ground. Every fighter knew it was important to be careful during matches, to not injure your foot. Because when you do, _it's over. _One could still stand after a slam against his chest. One with strong resolve, or who is stubborn, could still stand after suffering a blow to the head. But to stand, you need both feet to balance yourself. Lose your balance, and lose your match along with it.

It all happened so fast. She landed on the wrong side of her foot. She thought she felt a minor tearing sensation in her ankle, but that thought was immediately wiped out by the lance of pain that shot up her leg. Her limb gave out under her weight, and with a pained '_Ah!'_, the "Lightning" collapsed onto the floor. At the back of her mind, she noted the victorious '_Yes!_' from her opponent, and a few gasps from the Claymore-occupied stands. Irene pulled her injured foot out from under her body with much difficulty, so as to stop putting pressure on it. She could feel her ankle muscles locking up, contracting so as to protect that area. She held on tightly to the area above her ankle, as if trying to form a tourniquet with her hand to stop the pain from travelling up her leg. The two medics who had tended to Olivia before kneeled next to her hurriedly, along with her coach, who looked stricken. One of them gently prised Irene's hand off her leg as the other took the ankle into his hands. The downed fighter suppressed a whimper when the medic probed her injury gently with a finger.

'Miss, I think you sprained your ankle.' The medic holding her foot informed her. 'A grade two sprain, too, if I'm not wrong.'

'We should bring her off the mat first, Jon.' The second medic suggested to his partner, who nodded, then proceeded to help Irene up.

'Would you like us to carry you, Miss?' Jon asked.

'No… no, I'm fine. I can… walk.' Irene, whose arm was around the medic's shoulder, leaned against him, limping painfully down the short flight of steps down to her seat. Before she sat down, she took a glance up at the stands. Everyone was staring at her. Their expressions told her the exact same thing. She lost. Her chance of winning, gone. Irene caught sight of her mother, who looked ready to run down the stands and vault over the barricade to be with her daughter. She felt her eyes prick and moisten, so she turned her gaze away as she was lowered into the chair.

Jon knelt down and held her ankle gently up again. It was red and swollen. The pain throbbed and occasionally turned into a surge of electricity up her entire leg. Irene silently wished that the medic would stop prodding and turning her ankle this way and that. Wasn't he supposed to alleviate the pain instead of perpetuating it?

'Can you move your foot?' Jon asked the athlete.

Irene, hoping against hope, willed the foot to move. She only managed to twitch it a little, before the burning pain washed over again. Just as she was about to try a second time, the referee appeared next to the small group.

'Miss Lancett?' He asked politely and carefully. It was best to be courteous to fighters who had their chance of winning ripped away by an accidental injury. They may either be very angry or depressed, or just generally upset. 'Is your injury severe? Are you able to continue?'

The athlete kept quiet, refusing to answer as she glared at her foot, as if the intensity of her look would jolt it back into action. She could only force the foot to make minute movements; even then it caused her no small bit of agony. Part of her already knew it was over. How could she fight with that injured foot? Going up there now was like trying to fight with an axe without an axe head. Useless. But her pride made her hold the words back. Just a simple '_no_' dropped from her tongue right now would make her hate herself. And it seemed like she would not have to say it herself, the way Jon chipped in his two cents' worth.

'She's barely able to move her foot.' Jon directed it to her coach, who had been silent throughout. 'If it's injured to this extent, I don't think she can move around quickly even if she wanted to.'

Irene felt a wild urge to swing her fist at Jon's jaw, but she stayed still. A lump was forming in her throat. She was afraid that if she said or did anything, she would burst into tears. Helpless, frustrated tears. The 21-year-old never took her eyes off her swollen ankle, which had a growing purple tinge now. She thought of the consolation that would no doubt spill from every direction the moment she was surrounded by the club, her friends, her mother, and Sonya. She wasn't sure if she could handle it. She wasn't sure if she could stand looking at herself in the mirror and accept the fact that she lost the championship title to Celestine Smith, because of a stupid slip-up, an accident.

'Her injury is bad.' Coach Eric finally spoke up. He sounded like he had already made up his mind.

"_Hope to watch you receiving your gold medal."_

'We forfeit this-,'

'No.'

All four men's eyes swiveled to the athlete, whose eyes were still riveted on her injured ankle. Her voice had been so quiet, her word almost went unheard.

'I'm… sorry, Miss Lancett?'

'We will not forfeit this match.' Irene repeated firmly, though as quietly as before.

'Irene, I don't think you have a choice.' Eric cut in just as the referee opened his mouth. 'You can't fight on that ankle. Even if you want to, you can't. I won't let you injure yourself even more.'

A pause.

'Try me.' The fighter's voice came out a little louder this time.

'This is no time to act like a child. There's no place for your pride.'

'_Try me._' Irene hissed venomously, her tone sending the two medics shuffling back a little. The fighter finally took her eyes off her foot to glare at Eric. The coach did not back down from the piercing gaze. Instead, he returned it stonily.

'I will.' He stated simply, before placing a hand on Irene's knee and pushing it forcefully down.

It had the effect he wanted, at least initially. His action made Irene's foot slam into the ground. The impact travelled up from the sole to the ankle, causing the stabbing pain to explode, eliciting a restrained yell from the young athlete's lips. Her eyes watered from the pain, and she actually gave a few sobbed pants as she clutched at the spot above her ankle with both hands in a death grip. Her nails dug into her flesh, trying to divert her awareness of the pain from her ankle. She felt her coach leaning in, speaking in a gentler tone.

'I know that you want to win this, Irene. I know you can't stand the thought of losing the champion's title to Celestine.'

A few tears escaped her eyes, mingling with the cold sweat on her face. She kept her face down, not wanting to let any of the other men around her notice it.

'But the fact is this. You can't fight. This is Taekwondo. You need your feet to kick. Your foot is in no condition to do that. Furthermore, now the opponent knows you're injured, so she knows your weakness. She'll exploit it.' He stopped for awhile, letting the words sink into his student's brain. 'The championship is not important, Irene. Your health, your body is. There's always next time. Nobody will blame you for forfeiting this.' Eric withdrew, straightening his back. 'So, I have said my piece. Now it's up to you.'

The referee looked uncertainly between coach and student. He started tentatively, 'So should I… declare that the match is over?' His question hung in the air.

'No.'

Surprised looks from the four men. They thought Eric had convinced her to back down. Apparently not.

'… Are you sure, Miss Lancett? I mean,' the referee glanced at the injured foot. 'If you continue, any further injuries would only be held accountable to yourself and not-,'

'Yes.' Irene interjected loudly. Why can't these people just let her do what she wanted already? 'I will continue. I won't hold my injuries against the organization. _I _will be held accountable for whatever happens to me.'

A hesitant pause. Then he relented. 'Very well, then.'

'Wait.' Irene stopped him before he could walk over to the judges. 'Who will win the first round, in this case?'

'You, of course. You have higher points, and you were not knocked out by the other contestant. The first round is yours.'

'Good. Thank you.' Irene turned to the medics as the referee walked away. She held up her ankle as best she could towards them. 'Use as much freeze spray as you can, please.' "Freeze spray", a spray that could kill pain temporarily. Although Irene was not sure that it would take all the pain away from her current injury. 'Then bandage it up so that my foot won't move easily. Make it tight.'

'But…' Jon hesitated. 'If we put too much pressure, we may worsen it. Especially if anything happened to the bone.'

'I don't care. Just do it!' Irene snapped, springing them into action. Part of her regretted her tone, but as she had just said, she did not care anymore. This was what she wanted, so she would take responsibility for it. 'I'm sorry, coach.' She apologized to Eric, who was keeping a stiff silence. 'But I'm going with my own judgment.' There was no response for awhile, as Jon and his colleague sprayed the cold painkiller on her ankle and then wrapped it up. As the bandage was finished, Eric spoke.

'I understand.' He stood, just as the scoreboard reset itself, showing zero-all for the second round. Turning slightly, he watched as his student got on her feet as well.

Irene put her weight carefully onto both feet. Then she tried leaning on her injured foot. The pain was alleviated, but not totally. If she put too much force on that ankle, the pain would still shoot up her leg, causing it to tremble. The bandage was good, though, just as she wanted. It would prevent her from twisting her ankle all out in the heat of battle, hopefully. Irene squared her shoulders, taking a deep breath and trying to look as confident as she should be in her condition. She walked as steadily as she could towards the arena, her coach by her side.

'Do your best, like you always do.' Eric repeated himself, clasping his student's shoulder.

Irene tossed over the best smile she could manage, then made her way up the steps to the middle of the matted arena, trying to make herself look as dignified as possible and walking with as little limp as she could.

The two contestants stood in front of the referee, who started leading them through the bows again. Irene could read the confidence in Celestine's eyes and noticed something that disturbed her a little, a dangerous glint that wrapped a cold hand around her heart. Irene barely had time to think over it when the referee started the match. The moment his arm was lifted from between the two fighters, Celestine flashed forward, a kick aimed straight at Irene's head. Instinctively, Irene backed off, but she almost fell while stumbling backwards. The pain in her left ankle had caught her off guard, when her left heel dragged unexpectedly on the mat. In that moment, she could almost feel the slight tear in her ankle's muscles that her sprain had caused. She gritted her teeth as she righted herself. Irene did not know how stupid she looked just now, but it did not matter. She had avoided the head hit.

As they circled around each other again, Irene felt lucky that it was her left ankle that was injured. Even though Sonya had trained her to use both legs naturally, Irene still favoured her right leg for higher level kicks such as the back hook, her favourite. _Guess that's something small to feel happy about,_ Irene thought to herself as she dodged a newly-launched series of attacks, courtesy of Celestine Smith. Irene had already conceded five points to the woman. She felt the pain shoot up her leg every time she put pressure on the ankle, but she was getting used to it. Never taking her eyes off the onslaught, Irene searched for a small gap between her opponent's kicks, a short interval that she could take advantage of. Then, she surged forward, leg snapping up just before Celestine's active leg could fully extend. Irene felt the impact on the instep of her right foot, and she knew made contact. But she could not celebrate, not with her left foot practically wailing under the stress its owner was putting on it. The silver-haired fighter quickly retreated, discreetly resting her left foot as she watched Celestine regain her bearings. The brunette did not disappoint, snapping her eyes up to connect with Irene's as she rushed forward again.

Irene kept a close eye on her opponent's limbs, reading and predicting their trajectories and bringing her arm up to block a kick when necessary, all the while trying to open up the distance between them. But Celestine's legs, for the lack of a better metaphor, were like the clingy tentacles of an octopus. It seemed to always be there, and she had already scored two more points on the injured fighter. Irene watched Celestine's movements and acquainted herself with the woman's rhythm again. Then she attacked, left leg brought up without her realizing it, ready to serve a good old turning kick. But Celestine, it seemed, had learnt from her lesson and quickly brought another leg up to counter the oncoming attack. Their shins slammed against each other, the impact travelling up both women's bones. Irene started to withdraw her leg, but Celestine had another idea. The silver-haired fighter was surprised when she could not bring her foot back down to the ground, and found that Celestine's foot had hooked itself around her calf, holding it up. Suddenly, the brunette's foot slid quickly down the calf, hooking it onto Irene's ankle, and gave the injured foot a hard tug.

An involuntary yell of pain burst from Irene's lips as she fell forward, pulled along by Celestine's tugging motion, onto her hands. She put her weight onto her hands, preventing another collapse on her injured ankle. Irene panted as she tried to collect herself, the pain causing nausea to rise uncontrollably. She felt her stomach turning over, and she clamped her mouth shut, swallowing deliberately to ride out the wave. She felt someone kneeling down beside her, and she turned her head to look into the concerned face of the referee.

'Are you all right, Miss Lancett?'

"Miss Lancett" nodded curtly, raising her eyes to find Celestine and her coach in front of the panel of judges, along with her coach, who was gesturing fiercely at a small television screen.

'What's happening?' She asked, rising painfully up onto her feet again, accepting the referee's hand for support.

'Your coach asked for a review of the round. Probably calling for a foul against Smith.' He accompanied Irene to the small flight of steps, where she broke off and sat down on the second step.

'Thanks. Do you think it's going to be a foul?' She asked the man crouched next to her.

'I think so. I saw what she did. She grappled her opponent's foot, which obviously breaks the "no grappling" rule, and it was on an area below the waist. It was clearly an act of sabotage, to me, anyway.' He looked back at the small commotion in front of the judges. 'But I don't think she'll get disqualified. Maybe they'll give her a second warning and kick her out on the third.'

Irene let out a bitter laugh. 'She may not even need a third foul.' The athlete looked down at her throbbing ankle, then up at the scoreboard. Only twenty-seven seconds left in the two minute round. 'Hey, could you do me a favour?' She directed the question to the referee.

'Sure.'

'Tell the judges I forfeit this round.'

The referee looked surprised. 'Forfeit a round? But… I've never heard of anyone forfeiting just a round before. Usually people forfeit the entire match…'

'Please?' Irene almost pleaded. Almost.

'Okay, then.' The referee got up and went over to the judges.

Without any conversation to distract her, the awareness of the pain in her ankle came crashing back. She gripped her leg above her ankle, and cast her sights around, looking for the medics. They were not far away. She waved a hand, catching their attention, then mimed for a freeze spray. They nodded, and Jon's friend quickly retrieved the can and brought it over to her. After she took the can and waved the medic away, she heard her mother calling her name. She looked up at the stands, to see her mother standing behind the barricade. Valencia pointed at her ankle, then turned one of her palms up, asking silently whether she was all right. Since Irene could not roll on the floor with her face screwed up to show her agony, she settled for a reassuring smile and a thumbs up. Of course, Valencia did not buy it. Her mother frowned, pointing a finger at Irene again, and then directing it to her own temple. _Are you crazy?_ Irene smiled again, patronizing the older woman, pointing a finger at herself then at her temple, nodding. _Yes, I'm crazy._ The silver-haired woman suddenly felt an overwhelming urge to burst out laughing, despite her current situation, when Valencia shook her head and waved dismissively at her daughter. Irene knew her mother was actually rather protective of her. But she held herself back, knowing that her daughter needed space to grow up.

Irene heaved a sigh, and started planning what she was going to do with the third round. Even if they did not allow her to forfeit the second round, Irene was ready to give it to Celestine. What was important was the final, deciding round. From what Irene had been through in the second round, she knew her foot could not last long. Every step she took in the arena made her want to flinch, cry, and throw objects around the room. The pain was debilitating. She knew that, if she wanted to win, she had to end it fast. End it before her foot could take any more damage from all the extra movements and weight she forced it to take. Irene racked her brain while spraying the freeze spray all over her ankle, even though she was not sure whether it would work through the bandages. As she was playing with the can, it hit her. It was so obvious, she must have been blind to miss it. She needed to end the fight fast. Fast, means speed. Speed was what she needed, and it was right up her alley. She was the "Lightning" after all. But how? She had speed, but what should she do with it? Irene stared at her outstretched legs, thinking. Her ankle was injured, so that may be a problem. She could only kick with her right foot, looking at how her left could only act as a pivot now. She replayed her match in her mind. Celestine knew her ankle was her weakness. Irene could not fight her head on now. She would have to do something, something that would catch her opponent off guard. Something that the brunette would not expect.

"_Do your best, like you always do," _her coach had told her. She was best at speed, she knew that. But what should she- _wait._ She was the best at attacking. Lightning does not defend, it destroys. Her best, and favourite, move was her back hook, and it could knock her opponents out cold. But it would stress her ankle, which means she most probably should not do it… Irene blinked. Celestine knew her weakness. Her ankle. Celestine knew her best move. Her back hook. Celestine knew, so she would anticipate and expect. She would conclude that Irene could not rely on a back hook anymore. So… all that was left to do now was to… surprise her. Irene's light bulb practically exploded. There she had it. A gambit, no doubt a risky one, to help her win. Irene could only hope that her assumption about Celestine's assumptions was right. _That's it. Let's go all in._

Her coach returned, looking irritable, but Irene could tell he was already restraining himself as much as he could.

'How are you doing?' Eric asked the moment he reached her student.

'As fine as I can be.' Irene replied, eyes searching his face. 'So? What happened there?'

'I petitioned for Smith to get disqualified, but she only got a second warning.' He cast an unhappy glare across the arena at the Westville side. 'It was so obvious she was trying to take advantage of the injury, but she said it was unintentional. And guess what? It looked that way on the recording. She looked like she tried to pull her leg away but it got caught with your foot.' An explosive sigh. 'Well, enough about her. What about you? Can you still do this?'

'I can.' Irene said, and got up when she noticed the scoreboard resetting itself again. She gave a smirk. 'Even if I can't, I still will. Champions aren't quitters, are they?'

A grim smile from the coach, and he patted Irene's head guard lightly with his hand. 'No, they're not. Just make sure you don't become a crippled champion at the end of the day. I don't need your mother and Sonya biting my head off.'

Irene nodded, before slipping her mouth guard over her teeth and limping her way into the arena. She did not bother to hide it now and even tried to exaggerate a little, to get her opponent to let down her guard even more. Conceit would be her downfall. Irene reminded herself of what Celestine did to Alexa. She looked at the brunette's nose, and made it her target. One last shot at making the day end in her favour. They went through the bow, and got ready in their fighting stance.

One chance. Two minutes.

'_Shi-jak!'_

Like in the round before, Celestine stepped forward and starting flinging kicks at Irene, taking advantage of the silver-haired athlete's inaction. Irene forced herself to stay calm, focusing on her opponent's kicks, blocking and dodging them. She had to wait for an opening to make her move. If she did it too fast or slow, Celestine may be able to evade it and become aware of what she was trying to do, robbing her of the element of surprise. There was an increase in the amount of head strikes her opponent was trying to deliver, but Irene diligently avoided them, stepping backwards out of range, but she had already suffered two solid kicks to her side. How much time had passed already? Was it getting too late? She lost track of time the moment the match started. The pressure to fight back increased, but Irene bit it down. Haste would do her no good, though she sensed that Celestine's fun time should be brought to an end soon.

The brunette closed in, and Irene flung out her left arm to block the attack. Then she shifted backwards to give herself more space, and sent a slamming kick over, leg stretched out in front as high as it could before bringing it down hard on Celestine's chest. Irene saw her knees buckle slightly before she moved backward. Her opponent's eyes were more wary now, but she could still see the confidence in them. _Savour this moment, bitch,_ Irene thought to herself as she waited for Celestine to make her move. She forced her muscles to relax. Tense muscles are not able to stretch as far as it can, and would hold her back. Celestine rushed at her yet again, ready to launch another mini-blitzkrieg at the injured opponent. Irene readied herself. She had taken the time during Celestine's last assault to scrutinize the woman's demeanour and style, and noted that she was more relaxed. She was throwing more kicks than usual, probably wanting to win with points, to widen the gap between them and shame the previous year's champion.

_No way in hell, _Irene spat out silently as Celestine brought her leg forward. She would give her opponent a surprise, oh yes, and it would not be a pleasant one either. The brunette swung continuous kicks at the platinum-haired fighter, gaining yet another point. She broke off the combo and flung her left leg outwards, making an arc and aiming a crescent kick at Irene's head. Irene, predicting that attack, quickly evaded it and jumped forward to Celestine's left, the wide opening just beckoning at her to take advantage of it. Without giving her opponent time to think or react out of instinct, Irene jumped, spinning around and delivering a perfect back hook into Celestine's face. Her heel crashed into her opponent's nose, and she relished the short feeling of the nose breaking under her foot before she landed on her injured left ankle. A bolt of lightning shot up her leg, the most excruciating one yet, as her entire body weight landed on it. The limb collapsed under her, sending the fighter to the floor. Irene whimpered a little as she clutched at her leg, wondering how it could be that she felt pain and numbness at the same time. Her breath came in ragged gasps as the exertion of past matches caught up to her. Her entire body felt weak, she felt out of breath and light-headed.

'Miss!' The medic, Jon's friend, rushed to her side and helped her sit up. 'Are you all right? Are you hurting anywhere other than your ankle?'

Irene shook her head, trying to inhale again and only managing a strangled sob. She turned her head to look at Celestine as the medic went to work on her foot, and found the woman lying on the mats flat on her back with Jon trying to rouse her awake. There was blood streaming out of her nostrils. Irene felt the urge to laugh again, but she felt too exhausted to do so. A buzzer sounding caught her attention, and her eyes went over to the scoreboard.

_Female's finals, Winner: Lancett, I._

There was an eruption from the stands where the Claymore students sat. At first it was wild cheering, then it turned into an organized war-like chant.

'_Lightning! Lightning! Lightning!'_

Irene caught her breath and grinned widely, suddenly feeling much more light-headed than before. Her coach knelt by her, gripping her shoulders. He looked torn between crying and screaming, his mouth opening and closing a few times. He could not find the words, and settled for wrapping his arms around his student, enveloping her in a crushing hug. Irene returned the gesture, but suddenly realized her airway was almost cut off by her coach. Had he been attending Hugging 101 taught by Leo?

'Coach…' She started hitting Eric's back. 'I… I need to… breathe.'

'Oh! Oh, sorry,' He immediately let go, looking apologetic and embarrassed. 'I just… I just, you know.' Then he grinned. 'We're the champions this year again, then.'

'I guess so.' Irene replied with a wide smile, accepting her coach's help to stand up. She looked at the Claymore part of the stands and raised her fist, triggering another explosion of roars. _They really look like crazed people, _Irene mused indulgently to herself, _so undignified._

_**-Wind Flower-**_

Irene watched as the doctor patiently strapped the walking boot onto her leg. There were so many damned straps on the contraption; it would become more of a patience-training device for her rather than something that would help her leg heal. Valencia sat next to her daughter, never letting Irene's hand go from between hers. After the prize presentation ceremony, Valencia finally surrendered herself to her motherly instincts and held her daughter tightly, as though the younger had just escaped death. The woman never strayed away from Irene, always staying close to her, riding in the ambulance with her child and handing her car over to Sonya to drive to the hospital. Valencia constantly ran her thumb over Irene's skin in soft caresses, something that the younger did not stop her from doing, even though she felt completely calm.

'Well, that should do it.' Doctor Liana announced, finishing the last strap. 'Does it feel too tight or loose?' She asked her patient, who shook her head. 'All right, then. Give your ankle time to rest, it has already worked harder it should have for you today.' She said reprovingly. 'You almost tore one of your ligaments completely. So remember, no more strenuous activity. No more acts of god.'

Irene nodded like a child berated for drawing on the wall.

'All right, then. We're done.' The doctor finally smiled. 'Until our next appointment. If your ankle's doing well by then, we can start scheduling your physiotherapy.' She stood.

Valencia got up as well, helping her daughter along. The two older women slowly walked to injured patient to the door. Doctor Liana held the door open.

'Thanks, Doctor.' Valencia smiled, shaking hands with the medical practitioner.

'Yeah, thanks.' The daughter chipped in.

'No problem.' The doctor mirrored the smile, seeing them out before closing the door.

The parent and child made their way slowly to the waiting room, where Sonya, Eric, Teresa and, Irene took a double take, Galatea were waiting. Her coaches stood immediately upon noticing her arrival, the two friends following suit awhile later.

'How was it?' Sonya asked, patting Irene's head lightly before helping her sit on the chair.

'A serious grade two sprain. The doctor said she almost tore off one of her ligaments.' Valencia answered, evoking grimaces from the welcoming party.

'I'm all right,' Irene insisted. 'Foot injuries are common. There are other worse injuries.' She reached out and slapped Teresa's arm, when the woman shook her head as though Irene had just said something downright stupid.

'It's not all right when you have to hobble everywhere.' Galatea piped up.

'I'm to blame,' Eric told Valencia. 'I didn't stop her from going up.'

Valencia just waved her hand, dismissing his self-reproving words. 'No, no, I know it's not your fault. She's just too stubborn sometimes, just like a troublesome bull.' The woman ignored her daughter's indignant look. 'Anyway, we just have to pay the bill now. It's all right for all of you to leave, if you want to. We don't want to hold you back.'

'If you're sure,' Sonya said, turning to Irene and rapping at her skull with her knuckles. 'Take care of yourself, little girl. Don't do anything stupid.'

'I won't.'

'Rest well. You've earned it.' Eric, though friends with Sonya, spoke with less sarcasm.

'Thanks, coach.' She watched the two walk off, before turning to her friends.

'Planning to pay my bills?' Irene raised her eyebrows.

'No.' Teresa cocked a brow back.

'Then I think you can go back now.' Irene motioned towards the counter in front. 'It's just going to be another long queue to pay for my bills. I don't want to hold you back.'

The black-haired woman shrugged. 'If you insist.'

'I insist. It's pointless holding you back here with me. You too, Galatea.' Irene addressed the blonde woman sitting close by.

The statuesque female shook her head. 'I've got something to do here.'

_Oh, _Irene realized with a start, _this is Queenridge Hospital. She's attached here for her course._

'Okay then.' Teresa made for the exit. 'Call me if you need anything.'

'I will. Thanks.'

Her friend waved her hand dismissively, striding towards the exit. 'See you next time, Mrs. Lancett.'

'See you,' Valencia answered, watching Teresa's back for awhile. Then she handed her purse over to her daughter. 'Hold this. I need the washroom. Do you?' When Irene shook her head, she turned and walked briskly away.

'So…' Irene started, directing her words to the only companion left. 'What are you staying back for?'

'I'll be dropping by the pediatric ward. Haven't visited the children for quite awhile.'

'Hm. I've always suspected you were a pedophile.'

'No I'm not!'

'So you say.'

'I _visit _them, Irene. I just play with them. I don't diddle them.'

The silver-haired senior let out a short laugh. 'Diddle them…' She let out another extended chuckle that earned her a punch in the shoulder. 'Fine, fine. You just make your rounds and don't diddle them.'

'Tsk, whatever.' Galatea crossed her arms. 'You know, your pretty lady was rather worried about you.'

Irene's spine straightened. She felt perked up, but worked hard to hide it. 'My pretty lady?'

'You know who I mean.'

'Erm… okay. Thanks for telling.' Was she working too hard at appearing nonchalant?

Galatea scrutinized her closely. 'Really, Irene? That's it?'

'How do you want me to react, blondie? Skip for joy?' She retorted exasperatedly. The slight jolt of pain in her ankle was not helping. It was not supposed to be there. What was the painkiller doing?

'Appear happy, at least. When are you going to ask her out, anyway? Are you going to wait until someone else snatches her away?'

'I… I'm not going to let her get snatched away.' Irene said slowly. 'I just don't want to take things too fast.'

'Sometimes, speed is of the essence, my dear "Lightning". You should understand that better than anyone else.'

'Maybe.'

'Come on. Just tell her you like her. See how she reacts. What if she likes someone else? You'd be wasting your time, then.'

Irene shifted in her seat, making sure her leg did not move too much in the process. 'I'll see.'

'You've been "seeing" for too long, Irene. Stop being such a wuss and make a move.'

'Shut up, woman. Get off my back.'

Galatea raised her hands in a mock surrender gesture and shrugged, just as Teresa did moments before. She stood and stretched her back. 'Ah well. It's up to you, anyway. You just have yourself to blame when she slips out of your grasp.'

'Just go!' Irene leaned forward as best she could and pushed against the junior's lower back, forcing her to make a few steps forward. 'Go and diddle your little kids!'

'For the last time, I'm _not _a pedophile! Stop superimposing your secret fetishes on me!'

'_Just go!_'

* * *

><p>"Diddling". Lol. Hope it wasn't too hard to read through. Had quite a lot of unfounded trouble while writing this. Le sigh.<p> 


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